


it's just like make believe

by orphan_account



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Christmas, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-08-28 17:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 50,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16727988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dele dreads Christmas for one singular reason: he works in retail. While everyone else is bathing in alcoholic beverages and drinking in the festive spirit Dele is stuck selling perfume to uninterested customers who have awfully big egos. So come December first, Dele isn’t in a good mood.That is, until, Eric Dier waltzes into his life and promises him the best Christmas of his life. Only, the plan has one catch: Dele has to pretend to be his boyfriend for the month.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! again, some ground rules:  
> 1\. nobody is famous in this. all the players are non-famous  
> 2\. their ages are all the same this time unless it's noted  
> 3\. all the family members are made up. eric's parents' names are real, but the siblings and the characterisations are all my own creations  
> 4\. the title is from warm this winter by gabriella cimli. a very underrated christmas song  
> 5\. each part is one week of december (part 1: 1st-8th etc) and i'll be posting a part a week. so on the 1st, 8th, 15th and 22nd :-)

Dele loves Christmas. Or, well, he did until he got a job in retail. He loves the way that the world seems to come together in a collective joy; the air always feels lighter and the cumulative optimism of everyone on earth bonds together to just create happiness. Whether there is snow, slush or anything in between Christmas brings a universal feeling of belonging and for Dele, who hasn’t quite found his place in life yet, that feeling is enough to make him feel alive.

Dele loves the decorations and how the streets beam with string lights hung from building to building, gentle tones of bells and music trickling through the open doors to spill out onto the bustling streets of any town around the world. He remembers walking through shopping centres with his friends and family beaming up at the neon Santa-shaped decorations that would wave out at the world, his face alight with a red and green glow as he moved through the bustling shop floor to find somewhere he wanted to be. While Dele isn’t necessarily close to his family these days, times are hard and _things_ have happened, he still holds onto those memories to get him through the period he now struggles to enjoy.

Because Dele, foolish Dele, decided to work in Selfridges. It seemed great to begin with; he gets to stand behind a counter recommending different scents of perfumes to women with more money than sense every day and gets a good 20% discount on all the different brands in the scents department. His bedside table now boasts an extravagant selection of cologne and he prides himself in being able to tell the difference between _rose_ and _rosewater_ just by firing one spritz onto a tiny piece of tester paper.

Then his first Christmas as a Selfridges employee happened.

Dele thinks (read: he knows) people come into the store at Christmas just to get the yellow bag. They buy completely irrelevant items, the cheapest things in the complex, just to boast the brand on the bag. He thinks it’s a lot like Victoria’s Secret, how people pay the extortionate price of the flimsy lingerie just to carry the striped bag around with them. For some reason the Selfridges bag gives people _status_. So come Christmas, when people come and mill about every single floor even if they don’t have an interest in purchasing anything, Dele has to deal with the masses who are there to waste his time. He’s dealt with teenagers smashing bottles on the floor as their too-big backpacks get caught on the corners of the ledges, women asking him questions like ‘can you help me find this perfume?’ while only giving him details about their generic smell and, possibly worst for Dele, people trying to flirt with him in order to get discounts on the newest scents.

_“Is this the one you’re wearing?” He was asked before, the person batting their eyelids and leaning in suspiciously close to smell him again. “It smells so lush on you.”_

Dele loved Christmas; loved it with every inch of his being to the point he felt his body ran off gingerbread and that eggnog swam through his veins rather than blood. He just wished he didn’t need to spend the festive days in _retail_.

The first week of December always seemed to be the worst, only second to the week before the big day. The minute the twelfth month rolled around the festive spirit slaps everyone in the face and gives them an urge to just go out into the world and find something to spend their money on. The decorations around the perfume section have been up for a considerable amount of time, the big switch-on having come a few weeks prior to the first of the month. The Christmas trees are dotted around the floor, extravagant gold decorations hanging from the bristles and glimmering under the bright white lights pointed at them. A Christmas playlist is constantly played during the day, songs repeated so frequently to the point Dele plans his day around which song is playing. _Last Christmas_ usually signifies his lunchbreak, while _Fairytale of New York_ is when he switches from counter work to walking around trying to offer customers help. It’s repetitive, almost like being stuck in a groundhog day-esque cycle where every day is characterised by the same music and the same mundane events. The only element that would alter the reception of the day was the customers. Customers who usually asked the same boring questions and never spiked Dele’s interest.

Until today.

“Del, can you be a babe and go and clean up all the empty tester bottles, please?” His manager, a lush girl called Indigo, asks. The perfume department treated each other like family, always close and respectful even though they fought over silly things sometimes. Dele had a lot of respect for Indigo, and the other people he worked with, and seldom ever disagreed with anything she said or asked of him.

“Are the new units already available?” Dele asks.

“I’m going to get Linds to do it when she gets in,” Indigo says. “She has a hospital appointment, I think. Should be here in half an hour or so.”

“Anything serious?”

Indigo shakes her head. “No, no. She’s just getting a check-up,” she clarifies. “Also, remember to smile. It’s December, we’re going to get _those_ customers from now on. A smile will sell a lot more.”

Dele rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Indi.” He says, glancing at his watch for a moment as he sets off to the different lines of perfume. The store racks are organised by brand, weaving around in alphabetical order to take the customer around the entire floor. Dele didn’t realise how many people made and sold perfume until he had to check the inventory of the floor and had spent the majority of his shift listing different companies and each of their unnecessarily high amount of scents.

Dele knew why Indigo wanted fresh tester bottles available for today. Customers tended to complain if they couldn’t sample every perfume. By the end of the day the piles of tester papers would be completely empty as people come to each bottle, spritzing a painful three or four times before moving onto the next. The perfume drains quickly and the papers even more as customers collect them like a scavenger hunt, each different piece of card presenting something they’re encouraged to have obtained by the end of the trail. The rush wouldn’t start for a while; despite being Saturday most Christmas shoppers still liked to take their time, especially as the cold December chill hung in the air for hours after sunrise.

So it was just Dele and a few early birds stalking around the aisles, Dele shaking each bottle to check how much liquid was left whilst the customers perused the prices of bottles and the different architectures from different brands. The customers around Dele seemed to have a good understanding of different perfume companies, listing off comparisons to previous releases, so Dele guessed he would be left all alone for the morning. Something which, honestly, Dele was looking forward to.

“Excuse me?”

_Of course._

Dele turns around, his fake interested voice ready on the tip of his tongue as he went to answer the person. Until – _oh_. The appearance of the person did not match the voice. Dele had been expecting a dull-looking man, someone who was sent to talk to the assistant by their partner because they didn’t want to approach themselves. He had not been expecting a literal Disney prince to be stood in front of him, hands rubbing together to tackle the cold as a beanie hung half-heartedly off his head. The Stranger had gorgeous eyes and cheeks that could cut a piece of paper better than a pair of scissors. Why the Stranger had stumbled into the women’s perfume section Dele did not know, but he _hoped_ it wasn’t for one reason in particular.

“Hi,” Dele eventually says, sensing that he’s been quiet for far too long. “How can I help?”

The Stranger smiles. “Hey,” his voice is like honey, Dele thinks, oozing off his tongue like a sweet syrup Dele would want to add to his morning coffee. “I need to buy a present.”

Dele internally frowns. Of course, he thinks. “A present? Who for?” He asks, setting another empty bottle into the bag he was carrying around with him.

“My mum,” the Stranger says, and Dele’s attention is brought right back to the present. “She’s a gem, and I want to get her something nice. Figured a fancy perfume is a good place to start.”

“It’s a very good place to start. And I’m not just saying that because I’m a perfume salesperson,” Dele chuckles, momentarily walking away from the stranger to place the bag behind one of the checkout counters. “Do you know anything about what she wears now, if anything?”

The Stranger pauses, fingertip scratching his bottom lip as he thinks. “She always smells floral. I don’t think it’s anything fancy. Probably something from an Avon catalogue, or a last-minute anniversary present from my dad.”

Dele nods. “Right,” he clears his throat, teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “Do you have a budget?”

The Stranger thinks. “No. I mean, like. Nothing obscene. I’m not going to dish three hundred pound on perfume. But up to one-fifty maybe?”

“Cool,” Dele says. “One-fifty is a good amount. You can get a good scent in a big size for that price.”

“I’m glad,” The Stranger says. “I’m not the best with gifts usually. But this year, you know, I’m feeling like going all out.”

“That’s… really sweet,” Dele smiles. “Christmas is always a good time to treat the ones you love. My favourite part of Christmas was always the buying gifts rather than receiving.”

“Was?”

“Shit happens, stranger.”

The stranger nods. “I’m Eric,” he says, casual in his tone as if that information was necessary to Dele. “Sounds better than stranger.”

“Eric,” Dele repeats, relishing the way that the _beautiful man’s_ name sounds in his voice. “I’m Dele.” He says, gesturing to the name tag pinned above the left pocket on his work shirt. No customer has ever referred to him by his name, nor ever told him theirs, so Dele found this all to be a little confusing, but endearing nonetheless.

“Dele. Never heard that name before.” Eric says, arms folded over his chest as he follows Dele around the shop floor.

“It’s because I’m one of a kind?” Dele jokes, fingertips running over the labels of all the scents as he wove around. He knew the perfume he was looking for. The minute Eric mentioned floral Dele had known exactly which one to pick-up, one that the stranger would like and that would also bring a decent sum of money into the shop so early on.

“I’m sure you are,” Eric laughs, looking atrociously out of place as he picks up random bottles of perfume, eyes perusing the sharp edges of the glass and the extravagant toppers in the varying shapes of flowers to bees to geometric patterns. “So… why don’t you like Christmas?”

Dele tugs his eyebrows together. “Okay… two questions. One: why do you care? And two: when did I say I don’t like Christmas?”

“I’m just trying to make small talk,” Eric answers. “And you said shit happens when I asked about gift giving. Sort of got vibes that you aren’t too keen on the holiday.”

Dele blinked. “Oh, right,” he says. “It’s not that I don’t like it. I’ve just… grown out of it, I guess? I don’t go home for the holiday anymore and I don’t really have much cheer when I’m working Boxing Day in this place.”

“Yeah… that sounds a bit shit.” Eric laughs.

Dele smiles. His laugh is gorgeous, like a transcendental force pulled down to Earth to bless the ears of mere mortals. “You got that right, Eric.”

“So what perfume are you going to convince me to spend all my money on?” Eric continues, following closely behind Dele as they walk around the shelves.

Dele stops them in front of the Burberry section, eyes flitting about the different bottles to try and find the one he had his eyes on. “It’s called Her. By Burberry, obviously. It’s in a little white box, has pink stripes over it. It’s floral and new and will make your mum really happy, I’m sure.”

Eric nods, taking the answer at face value. He stands back a little as Dele peruses the shelves, eyes lighting as he finally finds the perfume he wants. Dele pulls out various bottle sizes, spritzing a couple onto a taster sample for Eric to smell. He holds the paper up to Eric, who leans down to smell it rather than taking the paper himself. He makes unusual eye contact with Dele, looking at him with a gaze of intertwined pleasure and gratefulness, nodding his head as he steps back after a moment.

“I like that.”

“Cool,” Dele eventually says, pulling himself back together after their weird _moment_. “What size do you want it in?”

“What do you recommend?” Eric asks.

Dele’s eyes roll. “Do you not like to make any decisions of your own?”

Eric grins. “I’m just listening to an expert, Dele.”

“I’d go with fifty. It’s a good starter size, I guess? Like… enough that if she loves it she’ll have plenty to last a while. But not too much that if she ends up hating it she’ll have to endure it for months. And it’s not insanely expensive,” Dele explains. “And I’m not even going to wait for your answer because I know you’re going to take this one. So come to the counter and I’ll check you out.”

“You saying you haven’t been checking me out since I got here?” Eric asks.

Dele is glad they’re not facing each other as Eric says that. He knows that there’s going to be some hint of blush on his cheeks, something Dele doesn’t really want Eric to see given they met about twenty minutes ago and are buying perfume for Eric’s mother. “Do you want the fancy yellow bag?”

“Duh,” Eric says, leaning on the counter as Dele starts sorting out a bag. “Why else do people come and buy things from here?”

“Story of my damn life.” Dele laughs.

“So,” Eric continues. Dele notes how this guy seems to enjoy talking. _A lot_. “How did you get into the perfume selling business? Spend so much time buying your girlfriend perfume that they just hired you on the spot?”

“Eric,” Dele chuckles. “I can tell you’re a decently smart guy. And I know we’re all about not listening to stereotypes. But, come on. I’m a guy in my early twenties working in a perfume shop with a bunch of women. Surely you can put two and two together and realise there is no girlfriend in this equation.”

Eric pauses, fingers dipping into his pocket to take out some money as Dele rung up his product. “Right…” He starts. “Sorry.”

“To answer your question. I finished high school and didn’t want to go to uni. So I took a good old gap year and travelled. Great, until I ran out of money. They I came back here, needed a job and this place pays well and gives good discount. And now I don’t have any other plan for the future so I’m stuck here for a while,” Dele explains. “And you can insert your card whenever you’re ready.”

“You sound very feisty,” Eric observes, hand shielding his pin from the surroundings despite there being no other people around. “Like… I don’t know. You just have a very feisty vibe about you. In the way you speak to people and address things and answer questions. Not in a bad way. It’s fun.”

“Feisty?” Dele laughs. “Never been called that before. Dramatic. But not feisty. It’s a new one, but I quite like it.”

“I can see you being quite dramatic. Must take a really good actor to deal with all the customers you get every day.” Eric shrugs, happily taking the bag from Dele.

Dele drags his eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean that there have been some kids messing up the shelves I saw you organising earlier, and you’ll have to pull out some great acting skills to pretend to be happy and not break their ankles,” Eric says. “I’ll see you around, hopefully.”

“Ugh,” Dele groans, shutting his eyes to calm his already shaking nerves. “Thanks, I owe you one.”

As Eric turns and walks away Dele sees the kids he was talking about, grimy fingers shuffling all the bottles around and spritzing an unnecessary amount of product on to the tester strips. Dele inhales, collecting all his positive energy in an attempt to retain some composure and tranquillity as he saunters off to where they are, preparing to, for lack of better words, rip the shit out of them.

❅

The day gets worse after Eric leaves. The customers who swarm the counters are incredibly annoying, their voices oozing disinterest as Dele invites them to try the samples he’d spent his morning break preparing in the back room. Families come and go and leave bottle tops scattered everywhere, their footprints painting the floor in dirtied patterns from the slushy snow they stepped in outside the shopping centre. Dele’s pretty little perfume section is positively destroyed by the time his lunch break comes around: a break he’s been yearning since a rather dreadful encounter with a family of five where the children were clearly attempting to smuggle sample bottles off of the shelves.

As Indigo releases him for his hour lunch break Dele practically _runs_ to Pret. He would normally just scuttle down the road to Greggs and pick up something simple to snack on in the staff only room, but after the trauma of the first morning of the first festive shift Dele wanted to go as far away as possible from the shop. So he decides to treat himself to something from Pret, a chain he would usually avoid for their unnecessarily high prices and obnoxiously named food. Honestly, Dele thinks, just call the sandwich what it is. There’s no need to force in long words that make the food seem fancier than the person buying it.

He picks up a simple boxed sandwich from the fridge and a packet of overly-priced crisps from a basket by the till, gazing up at the overhead menu boards to decide what he wants to drink. He’s just about made his mind up as he is called to the counter, lips parting to recite his order when-

“I’ll just take a large tea and one of the bagels,” someone comes up next to him. “And he’ll have… what do you want?”

It’s Eric.

Eric?

Dele blinks.

“Uhm… What?” Dele asks.

The poor lady behind the counter matches Dele’s expression of confusion, eyes flitting between the two as Dele and Eric just stare at each other. For an uncomfortably long time. “What drink do you want?”

Dele blinks again. “I’m so confused.”

“Dele…” Eric says. Dele swoons. “What hot beverage would you like to accompany your lunch?”

Dele snaps back into reality for a moment, long enough to look at the poor lady and give his order. “Just a latte, please.”

The lady nods, reading off the price as she goes to prepare their drinks. Dele’s hand dives into his pocket to pull out the change but, just as his fingers tickle the edge of a pound coin, Eric has already tapped his card against the reader and their food is paid for.

“What are you doing?” Dele asks, reluctantly picking up his lunch. Lunch which he now feels very self-conscious about given what Eric ordered. He doesn’t know why he’s so aware of what this _stranger_ is eating, but he feels like his egg mayonnaise sandwich is something of a downgrade to Eric’s fancy looking bagel.

“I’m buying you lunch?” Eric answers, as if it’s common sense.

“I got that part, thanks,” Dele mutters. “But why?”

“Because I want to?”

“You don’t even know me, Eric. Our only interaction has been me basically scamming you to pay ninety quid for an overpriced perfume.” Dele rambles, thanking the lady as she hands them both their drinks.

Eric’s eyes roll. “I thought our conversation was very deep and meaningful, actually.”

Dele doesn’t know why, but as Eric walks to a table and chairs by the window he feels inclined to follow him, feet moving him in Eric’s direction before his mind can even agree. “Do you always sneak up on strangers and treat them to a lunch date?”

“Who mentioned the word date?” Eric jokes, eyebrow inclining over his cup as he sips from his tea.

“Whatever,” Dele blushes. “But seriously… what are you doing?”

Eric pauses. “You’re gay, right?”

Dele chokes on his drink. “Fucking hell, Eric.” He utters, forcing himself to cough to clear his throat. There are clearly-rich-businesspeople staring at him as he drags his sleeve over his chin to clean up the latte, looking down at the weird little Selfridges boy and his companion as they descend into coughing and laughter.

“Why are you so shocked at that question? You literally told me exactly that about three hours ago.” Eric says.

“I wasn’t expecting that! I thought you were gonna say, like… I don’t know. How are you? Not _that_ ,” Dele says. “But yeah, I guess? I’m still confused as to why you care but I did essentially tell you over the counter.”

“I have a proposition for you, and I know it’s going to sound bizarre, but.” Eric starts, deciding that is the perfect moment to take a bite from his food.

“Leaving me hanging and we’ve been talking for all of five minutes.” Dele says, voice dripping with sarcasm as he lifts the lid from his drink and stirs in some more sachets of sugar.

Eric’s eyes roll, though the smile on his face makes it seem friendlier. “Like I said, it’s going to sound mental. But hear me out,” he repeats. “So… Christmas season. You said you don’t like it that much and that you don’t see family or do much interesting stuff. Correct?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“So,” Eric continues. “I come from a place that is big on family ties and coming back for the holidays and being really cute and sweet and catching up on every single detail of a person’s life. It’s great, but suffocating. And embarrassing when all your friends and family are doing shit with their life and you’re just… stuck.”

“Okay… I’m really enjoying learning about your family life but I still don’t understand what it has to do with me.” Dele chuckles.

“Do you have a work Christmas party?” Eric asks.

“Yeah? Most places do these days.” Dele answers.

Eric nods. “Okay. Do you take a date to that Christmas party?”

“I mean… yes. Because otherwise it’s lonely and it makes you feel less like a sore thumb. But I usually only ask a friend to keep me company. Why?” Dele explains.

“Exactly. So you can imagine my struggle when I have about six Christmas parties to go to and nobody to take with me. Especially when your best mates all have wives and girlfriends to bring.” Eric says. Though… he still isn’t making sense to Dele.

“I’m so confused, Eric. None of these words sound like a proposition.” Dele laughs.

“Do you want to be my plus-one to every Christmas party I have this festive season?” Eric finally asks. “But not, like, a real date. Like a fake date. So people believe something is going on and don’t pity me with the whole, _oh you’ll find someone soon_.”

Dele blinks. Again. He’s aware of how much blinking he’s been doing and realises he must look like a really bad character out of an Adam Sandler comedy movie. “Sorry… what?”

“You pretend to be my boyfriend for December. It’s not that complicated.” Eric says.

“But… why? Why would I do that?”

“Several reasons,” Eric says. “One, you seem like a nice person who would do nice things for another nice guy. Two, you’re going to get a whole month of free food and drinks at different Christmas parties. Three, you’ll get some presents from my family and friends out of it. Four, you’ll be able to spend Christmas with kind people instead of in Selfridges. And five, you said you owe me one.”

“When did I say that?”

“When I told you about the kids fucking up your displays.” Eric says.

Dele pauses. He does remember saying that, actually.

“Oh, and you’ll be able to have a date to your Christmas party who isn’t one of your friends. So you also won’t have to deal with the pity.” Eric adds.

Dele ponders the question as they both take bites from their food, Dele glancing over at Eric to just check what he’s doing. He looks at his phone at some points, other times peering out the foggy window to people watch. Dele notices how he smiles everytime a dog walks past, or how he chuckles when people slip a little on the ice lining the pavements.

“I guess I’m just a little confused as to why you want me to do this for you. Or why you’re so bothered about putting up a fake front of having a boyfriend to your loved ones. Why do you want to lie to them so badly?” Dele asks.

“Because every year they expect me to bring someone back and every single time I don’t their faces just… get worse? I’m tired of dancing with my mum at Christmas instead of someone else. And they don’t need to know it’s a lie, do they?” Eric shrugs.

Dele nods in mild agreement. “Okay… so… like. How many parties do you have?”

“I have a work party. I have a friend party, all of my uni pals and everything like that. Then there’s your work party, too. Then going home to my parents little family things. And Christmas.” Eric lists.

“What makes you think I have enough holiday leave from work to do this?” Dele asks.

“Lucky guess?”

Dele smiles. Of course he has holiday left. He has plenty of holiday. But the Christmas request lists were due a few weeks ago and Dele didn’t know how lenient Indigo would be with him requesting the busiest days off in the year mere weeks before they occur. “I’ll have to ask my manager.”

“So you’re agreeing to fake date me until the end of December?” Eric asks, face alight with happiness.

“Reluctantly. But sure,” Dele says, cutting in before Eric could say anything else. “However, we’re going to set some ground rules and I refuse to do any funky business until you’ve told me your life story. You’re still a stranger to me, technically.”

“A stranger you scammed out of ninety quid and who bought you lunch?” Eric smiles.

Dele laughs. “Exactly that.”

❅

They exchange numbers and addresses and other basic thing people give out when networking. Except this isn’t really networking, more like online dating gone way too far way too quickly. Dele doesn’t even realise what he’s signed himself up for until he gets back to work and sees on the staff coffee table a sign-up sheet for the Christmas event. The entire fragrances floor come together for their Christmas party, with the store manager throwing in some special gifts and little surprises in a pompous display of how wealthy the company is these days. There is a plus one section on the list, and it’s at that moment Dele realises what he’s about to spend December doing.

Well. If he can get Indigo to agree to give him all his holiday leave in one go. Dele just keeps tossing the idea over in his mind for the rest of his shift, losing focus everytime someone comes to check-out the same perfume he’d sold to Eric earlier in the morning. Would he like to be away from retail for the month of December? Of course! He loves his job, he just doesn’t love all the extra negatives that come along with it sometimes. So for him, right now, getting Indigo to set him free is what he desperately needs.

Dele keeps watching Indigo for the rest of the day, mindfully seeing how her mood is and whether she seems happy or annoyed or somewhere in between. He feels a little like a kid again, when he would have to wait for his mum to be in a good mood before asking her to stay out late or go over to someone else’s house for dinner. It feels very childish watching his friend all day, tracking her expressions and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But, still: all part of the plan.

He and Indigo get the same bus home. They don’t live together but their apartments lie on the same bus route, meaning every morning and evening they get to spend a good amount of time together. He supposes they’re close friends, even if that’s something Dele doesn’t like to say out loud. They know a lot about each other, Dele and Indigo, and even if their interaction is restricted mainly to when they are working together Dele still enjoys her company.

They sit at the back of the bus together, like naughty schoolchildren hiding from the teachers at the back of a coach on a school trip. Dele sits backwards-facing and Indigo forwards, insisting that she gets awful travel sickness if they ride any other way. Dele watches as Indigo pulls out her phone, idly scrolling and typing as she answers messages from various people that she had received during the day. He tries to be secretive with his glances, waiting until she has her phone down before starting the conversation he’s been mentally planning since the middle of the day,

“Babe,” Indigo says, eyes flicking up from her phone. “You’ve been staring at me for hours. Do I have something on my face? Something on my teeth? It’s creeping me out, Del.”

“Oh,” Dele laughs, a little flutter of nerves escaping with his coughs. “No, you don’t. I just have something to ask you and I’m a little nervous.”

“Nervous?” Indigo asks, phone slipping back into her bag as she focuses her full attention on Dele. “What’s up, doll?”

“Right, so,” Dele starts. “This is going to be a lot, but just remember all the things I’ve done for you and the store before you get upset.”

“Okay…”

“So you know how I haven’t used any of my holiday so far this year? Or how I’ve only taken about three days off for a very long time?” Dele asks.

“Yeah. You’re my star employee, Del.” Indigo chuckles.

Dele nods. “Okay. Well… I kind of need to use them all... in December.”

“This December?”

“Yeah…” Dele says. “I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to ask, but I didn’t know I’d be needing them until a little while ago.”

“How many?”

“Eight.”

Indigo groans. “What days?”

“Uhm… the fourteenth. And then every day from the twentieth to the twenty-ninth.” Dele lists.

“Dele,” Indigo says. “You’re asking to take off Christmas and post-Christmas on the first of December?”

“I _know_ , Indi. I know it’s really late and I’m sorry but I didn’t have these plans until recently.”

“What plans take up the entirety of December, Del?”

Dele pauses. Does he tell his manager he’s faking a relationship for the winter? Or would lying about it and creating a second entirely false scenario make her more likely to give him the holiday he so desires? But lying to Indigo, his _friend_ , just feels wrong. “My, uh… my boyfriend,” the word sounds dirty coming from his lips. “Wants me to meet his family and go home with him for the holiday.”

Indigo stares. Her eyes are alight with confusion, eyebrows inclined as she looks at Dele. “What boyfriend? Since when do you have a boyfriend? And not just _a_ boyfriend, but one who wants you meet his family?”

Dele panics internally. He and Eric haven’t discussed this yet, haven’t sorted out the rules of their fake relationship and planned when and where they met and other logistical facts that would make them seem realistic. “That’s not important, Indi… can I have the days off or not?”

Indigo frowns. “Can you get this boyfriend to come to the store tomorrow?” She asks. “I want him to explain why he’s taken so long to ask you to go home with him.

“Are you… serious? You want me to drag him from work to come to a perfume shop? Do you not believe me, or something?” Dele asks.

“It’s not that I don’t believe that he’s real. I just can’t believe that you, Dele-the-hater-of-love, have a serious partner who you’re spending Christmas with,” Indigo shrugs. “Also, this is my stop.”

“You still haven’t said yes or no!”

“It’s a maybe. Until you get him in so I can see him and judge him, it’s a maybe.” Indigo leans down and kisses Dele’s cheek, gently patting the other one before stepping down the length of the bus to get off at the next stop.

Dele groans, letting his head fall back in agitation. Then he bangs his head on a pole he didn’t realise was behind him, and decides right then that the universe is clearly against him.

❅

“Did you get pulled through a hedge backwards, or something?” Dele asks the next day, eyes raking up and down Eric’s figure as they approach each other outside the shop. Eric had been incredibly reluctant to return to the shop the next day, even more so given he had work early in the morning and wanted to have a nap rather than come and play pretend for Dele’s manager. Dele hadn’t asked much about Eric’s job, figuring it was something professional, and just spent time begging him to come instead. But now, stood outside the shop as they met up at Dele’s lunchbreak, he has a plethora of questions.

Eric has a scarf wound tightly around his neck, a JD Sports bag hanging off his shoulders as he stares at Dele with tired eyes. There’s dirt all over his knees, legs shaking from the cool, and Dele wonders why the man is wearing shorts when it’s December and snowing outside. He has another beanie pulled over his head, a small logo printed on the front which Dele can’t read or work out. He doesn’t recognise it and, truthfully, Eric’s outfit confuses him.

“No. I told you, I had work.” Eric says, pulling out a mostly empty bottle of water from his bag.

“And what is work, exactly? Considering you dropped ninety quid on perfume yesterday I assumed you were some kind of fancy businessman. The muddy face and shorts combination isn’t really screaming businessman right now.” Dele says. He tugs his sleeve down over his hand and leans up to wipe some of the dirt off of Eric’s cheeks. He didn’t really want to waltz into the break room, Eric in tow, for Indigo to see… this.

“Did I not mention?” Eric says, watching intently and staying as still as possible while Dele cleaned his face. “I’m an under-16s football coach. You know like mini youth leagues? I train and manage one of those teams.”

“Oh,” Dele says. He doesn’t know why he’s so taken aback. Eric _does_ have the build of a footballer, rather athletic with broad shoulders and a face always twisted in confusion that makes him seem like he’s always thinking of some complicated set-piece play. “I never would’ve guessed that.”

“Not many people do.”

“So, like… your work Christmas party is… backroom staff?” Dele inquires.

Eric shakes his head. “No, no. It’s all the people who run the league. So coaches of all the teams, people who help organise events. Basically all the adults in charge. My housemates and I all coach separate teams in the same league.”

“You’re friends with the enemy?” Dele fakes shock.

Eric smiles. “Best friends.”

Dele laughs, ushering Eric into the shop as the conversation ends. “Okay, so. As I explained yesterday, my manager doesn’t believe that I have a boyfriend who I’m serious with. Bad history with romance, I can explain that another day. So we just need to convince her that this is legit and important and she’ll give me all the days off that I need.”

“Right, but… how are we meant to convince her that it’s legit if we haven’t discussed the details?” Eric asks, keeping close behind Dele as they navigate through the different floors. “If we start saying contradictory things I highly doubt that she’ll believe you.”

“Okay. Fair point. So… simple details. If we sort out where and when and why, we can make up the rest.” Dele offers.

Eric nods. “Right. It needs to be memorable. It’s December, so we need a holiday that wasn’t too long ago. Halloween?”

“Ugh,” Dele rolls his eyes. “Cliché. Also no because I had a work Halloween party. Maybe bonfire night? That was only a month ago, I didn’t go out with anyone who would be able to counter that.”

“Bonfire night? I like it. So at a random display?” Eric asks.

“I’ll think of a random park name and we can go with that.” Dele replies.

“Bonfire night in a random park. Cool. So it’s almost been a month, which is a decent amount of time that you wouldn’t have told anybody, but also enough that you coming home with me makes sense,” Eric repeats. “Excellent.”

Eric holds up his hand for a high five. Dele reluctantly presses their palms together, smiling a little as Eric squeezes his hand. “We have to make a better high five than that. But later.”

“Later.”

The shop floor is painfully busy as they manoeuvre around to find the staff room. There are families and couples and random friends all wrapped up warm and stepping prints of slush onto the once clean floor. Dele focuses entirely on getting to the staff room, keeping a loose grip on the sleeve of Eric’s shirt as they wriggle through the masses of people.

When they arrive they’re the only ones in the room. It makes sense, Dele thinks, as it’s only him and Indigo on break right now and he caught sight of her dealing with a tidal wave of customers at the check-out. That alone grants them a few more minutes to look _believable_ , almost like preparing a fake ID for a party or thinking of examples to give in a job interview to convince an employer they’re right for the job. It all reminds him of his interview for this job, actually, and how he sat in front of Indigo insisting that his week-long trip in Paris taught him a lot about the luxurious industries even though he spent the best part of it completely hammered and flirting with any French boy who looked his way in a café.

(She didn’t need to know about that though.)

 “Do you want a drink?” Dele asks, reaching into the overhead cabinet to pull out two mugs. “You look sort of cold. We have coffee and about thirty different types of tea.”

“I’ll take a tea, actually. Decent amount of milk and three sugars.” Eric says. He looks very out of place in the staff room, stood in the corner like a boulder in the middle of a desert. He looks uncertain of whether he can sit down, eyes instead focusing on the variety of photos hung on the walls of Dele and his co-workers at different events. Dele is pretty sure he’s drunk in all of them, his eyes a little misty and cheeks an incredulous red colour, but Eric doesn’t seem to notice or ask.

“You can sit down, you know. Make yourself comfortable. It’s going to be a pretty long hour.” Dele says, sitting himself down in _his_ seat. He personally placed ownership on the creaky recliner in the corner during his first shift. He’d dealt with a rather aggressive customer just before his break and said to Indigo that he needed to lie down in a dark room after the confrontation. And so she led him to the back room, sitting him on the recliner and pulling at the handle so Dele lay almost perfectly horizontal. Then she switched the lights off and left the room, and Dele had claimed the seat ever since.

Eric reluctantly sat opposite him, uttering a small thank you as he took a sip from his drink. “So, what’s she going to ask us, then?”

“No clue, babe. Just act like you’re soul-crushingly in love with me and we’ll be fine.” Dele smiles, shooting a gentle wink over at Eric.

Eric goes to reply, some witty response teasing his lips, but Indigo chooses that moment to walk in. She releases a huge sigh as she enters the room, only greeting the two of them with a small wave. She goes to the fridge to take out her lunch, Dele and Eric exchanging occasional glances while she makes a _strong_ cup of coffee to tide her over for an hour. Then she comes next to Dele and collapses into the almost broken arm chair.

“I fucking hate the Christmas shift.” She finally says.

Dele giggles a little, reaching over to soothingly rub her knee. “Don’t we all, Indi. What happened, then?”

“Some mother wasn’t watching her kids, right. And they picked up three bottles of perfume, _unopened._ Took them out the boxes, like unwrapping the plastic, and smashed them on the floor. Bearing in mind they’re new, expensive brands as well. So I call her over and explain that she’ll need to pay for them because those bottles aren’t cheap and they just smashed three, and the total cost was three hundred and something. But she’s there refusing saying it’s not her fault and I’m being unreasonable. So I had to call over _my_ manager, which you know is a big deal, and then escaped to come here.” Indigo explains.

Eric chuckles a little. “Sounds a bit shit.”

Indigo sits right up at the sound of the new voice, almost as if she hadn’t realised Eric was in the room. Which, now Dele thinks about it, makes sense. She was very reluctant to believe Dele had a boy to introduce her to, so Eric sitting across the room was probably something she wasn’t expecting. “Wait… who are you? Are you the boyfriend?”

Eric nods. “In all my glory.”

“So you weren’t joking?” Indigo asks, rapidly looking between Dele and Eric.

“Why would I be joking?”

“I just thought you wanted to get Christmas off for no reason. I thought this was like… a fake relationship or something,” Indigo laughs. Dele can’t look at her for a moment, busying himself with his own lunch as he listens to Indigo continue to ramble on. “So, like. You want to take him home for Christmas?”

“If you’re willing to give him the time off, yeah.” Eric says.

“So you’re serious about him? If you’re wanting to take him home and all that. It’s pretty serious.” Indigo continues her interrogation, dipping a biscuit into her drink as she looks over at Eric.

“I guess you can say serious? We met in November, at a bonfire night thing, so I’m pretty eager to take him to meet my family.” Eric shrugs.

Indigo’s head tilts in confusion. “Bonfire night? Weren’t you working the fifth, Del?”

“It was one of those weekend displays. You know the ones in public parks with games and all that shit? It wasn’t exactly on the fifth, but the weekend just before.” Dele quickly explains, avoiding Eric’s confused and panicked gaze.

“Ah. Right, makes sense,” Indigo murmurs. “Well, Dele. I looked at the timetable after you told me the days and I think I can just about fit you in. You were scheduled off for Christmas Eve through Boxing Day anyway. I was going to give you those as unpaid days off just so you’d take a break. And there are enough younger staff willing to work the days before and after.”

“Amazing. Thanks, Indi. And I promise to not drop all this on you three weeks before ever again.” Dele smiles, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek.

“So, where are you taking my star employee then, Dele’s boyfriend?” Indigo asks.

“His name is Eric.” Dele adds.

“Eric,” Indigo repeats. “You look like an Eric.”

“My family are from Cheltenham. I always go back for the holidays. A bit like one of those really cheesy Christmas films where everyone walks into the house covered in snow. That’s my whole family going back to my parent’s place.” Eric chuckles.

Cheltenham, Dele thinks. He doesn’t know anyone in Cheltenham or, for that fact, where exactly it is. Which is good, he supposes. It means he won’t bump into anybody he knows at all and will be able to pull off this façade without involving anyone else he knows and loves.

“Cheltenham… interesting,” Indigo says. “So you met on bonfire night. Around that day, anyway. Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Del?”

Dele thinks. “I didn’t want to get ahead of myself? You know how my love life is. Every other time I’ve told you about someone we’ve broken up about a week later. I figured you were a bad luck charm, or something. So when I met him I wanted to keep it a bit low-key until I knew that it was going well.” He lies, hoping it sounds believable.

“Bad luck charm? That’s so mean, Dele.” Eric laughs. Dele looks over to him, smiling. Eric’s expression appears teasing, the way his lip curls in the corners and his eyes flicker with comedy. Dele blows a joking kiss over in his direction, feeling a bit silly in the way he’s acting in front of his friend. But, he reasons, if he’s going to be making his acting debut as Eric’s-Fake-Boyfriend then he’s going to give an Oscar worthy performance.

“Get used to it, new boy. He’s a sarcastic little shit sometimes,” Indigo smiles. “So are you here on your lunch break too, Eric?”

“Nah,” Eric answers. “My day’s work ended at eleven. I’m a youth football coach. We have games on Sunday mornings, so I’m ready to chill now. After coming here, of course.”

“Did you win?” Indigo asks.

Eric grins. “Three-nil.”

Dele beams. He doesn’t know why, but hearing of Eric’s success makes him inherently happy. “I’ll have to come to one of your games,” Dele smiles. “Again. I mean. You know… like another one.”

“I was gonna say, Del. What kind of boyfriend doesn’t go to his partner’s football games?” Indigo laughs, standing from her seat. She picks up all of their empty mugs, heading over to the sink to clean them up. “Now, as much as I’m enjoying this little get together, I really need to go make sure Mother Reluctant is paying her dues. I’ll sign you off for the rest of the dates later, Del. And take an extra ten minutes to walk your boy back to the exit.”

Eric and Dele toss a sympathetic wave to Indigo who grimaces as she walks back out to the store floor, eyes already filling with dread as she looks just outside the door. Dele is the first to turn back to Eric, using the few seconds to just take him in again. It’s weird, Dele thinks, that this guy is now his partner. Someone who is supposed to know the best and worst parts of him when, in reality, Eric doesn’t even know Dele’s surname. It’s a bizarre concept, one that makes him a little nervous. But Eric seems nice. And if Dele is being honest he’s beyond excited to actually spend time with someone for Christmas rather than wasting hours explaining to customers how some products are sold out and that _no_ , they won’t be getting more stock since it is Christmas Eve.

“You alright?” Dele asks, lulling Eric back to reality. They look at each other again, neither of them blinking as they settle back into the reality of just being with each other.

“Yeah. Are you?”

Dele nods. “I am now I have a week off at Christmas. Haven’t had those days off work in a very long time.”

“Well, I’m glad to be the reason that you’re spending time relaxing.” Eric smiles.

“So,” Dele continues. “I need to head back to work soon. But we need to work out some more shit before you go and before we start, you know… _romancing_ everywhere. Like getting to know each other and you filling me in on family details.”

“Yeah, sounds cool,” Eric says. “Uhm… do you have any evenings off next week?”

“I can do Wednesday evening. Why?” Dele asks.

“Dinner? We can either go for a fancy sit down or have takeout. Ideally not at my house because, you know… housemates,” Eric poses. “I’ll come pick you up from work and we can go to dinner?”

Dele smiles. “Dinner sounds good. But you’re not paying for me this time. I’m still not over you buying me lunch yesterday.”

“Perfect,” Eric says, standing as he speaks. “I’ll text you between now and then. But I have to go home and walk my dogs and you have work. So, I’ll see you on Wednesday?”

“See you on Wednesday.” Dele says.

Eric holds open his arms for Dele, edging a bit closer as he coaxes Dele to hug him. Eric is warm and doesn’t smell as bad as Dele expected him too. He doesn’t know how long they hug for, he feels cliché thinking that it lasted a very long time, but it was something Dele liked. Liked and didn’t know he needed. But as Eric pulls back and tosses him a wave, Dele feels a little bit emptier.

Even as Eric leaves the room, Dele the only one remaining while he cleans up their litter, he feels empty. Weirdly empty after saying goodbye to someone he’s only known for a day. But, Dele thinks, it is the Christmas season. And weird things happen around this time.

❅

The restaurant Eric drives Dele to is weirdly fancy. As is his car. Dele doesn’t know how much being a youth football coach pays, but Eric has a very nice, sleek black car and Dele suddenly feels very self-conscious of the bus pass tucked in his pocket. He keeps his hands to himself and legs as still as possible for the drive from Dele’s apartment to the restaurant, afraid of dirtying the exquisite interior and ruining their relationship before it’s even begun. Dele can feel Eric watching him everytime he fidgets, but he pretends to not notice. Instead just stares out the window or fiddles with the controls on the console instead.

“Okay, here we are. It’s Italian, I hope that’s okay with you?” Eric asks after pulling neatly into one of the only available spaces. The restaurant exudes opulence. There are lights on the floor that illuminate menus captured behind glass panels outside the restaurant. Minimalist greenery hangs from the panes and decorates the entrance, subtle colours adding character to the otherwise sleek build. It looks incredibly busy inside, tables packed with glasses of wine being held in the fingertips of different customers. Dele assumes that Eric booked a table, a thought that makes this engagement seem a lot more like a real date than Dele was prepared for.

“Yeah. Italian is great,” Dele says, giving Eric a small smile as they slip out the car into the snow. Dele’s feet gently crunch in the layer of snow, his boots decorating the ground like muddy footsteps stepping on a white, fur rug. “Although I feel very underdressed for this place. My knock-off Ralph Lauren t-shirt and jeans don’t really scream fancy Italian restaurant.”

Eric shakes his head. “I completely disagree. You look wonderful.”

Dele smiles. He doesn’t say anything else because he knows his voice will break and he’ll make a fool of himself in front of super cool and suave Eric. So he just follows closely behind his leader, hands tucked into his pockets as they are escorted to a sweet little table towards the back. It’s a small booth, big enough for four people at most. There’s a candle in the middle, the menus sandwiched between that and a fake rose in a small jar. It feels very quaint and delicate, like a really intimate restaurant despite every single table occupying a plethora of customers. Dele wonders momentarily why Eric brought him here and how he even found out about this place to begin with, but just stays quiet and submissive as he sits and listens to the waitress ask for their drink order.

Dele sticks with water, Eric goes for some fizzy drink Dele hasn’t heard of before. The menu is extensive, so many different variations of food covering the page with English and Italian translations supplied to aid all the customers. Dele is a little overwhelmed, if he’s honest. He’s the kind of person who meal plans and budgets his food for the week so he doesn’t overspend. He tried to budget this meal into his weekly spending, but the prices were slightly jarring. Almost fifteen pound for spaghetti Bolognese? He could make his own for about a fiver using Lidl’s unbranded ingredients. Part of him wishes he’d never told Eric he couldn’t pay for dinner this time, but the other part knows he’ll be able to make it work.

Their drinks arrive and they list off their food order, Dele trying to act sly as he orders one of the more simple and cheaper options on the menu. As their waitress goes they settle into the booth, Dele gently drumming his fingers over the rim of his glass as Eric blows bubbles using the paper straw he was provided with.

“So… what details are we clarifying?” Eric asks.

“What questions do family members usually ask at these events? I haven’t done anything like this since I was a teenager.” Dele chuckles.

“They’ll ask how long, and where we met. Which we’ve sorted. Probably about your work? And stuff about you. So be prepared for a lot of questions. If there’s anything you really don’t want to talk about you can let me know and I’ll make sure they don’t bring any of it up.” Eric says,

“Uhm. I’m not keen on family talk. Which is a bit inconvenient since we’re going to your family get together. But if you can ask them to not talk about parents and shit like that I’d be very appreciative.” Dele says.

“Consider it done.”

“So… what are your family like?” Dele asks. “I feel like I should know before I get there, so I can be really prepared.”

Eric smiles. “Yeah, so. My dad is Jeremy. One of my middle names is also Jeremy, so that should help you remember that. My mum is called Louise. They’re both great. And I have five siblings. Two sisters and three brothers.”

“Shit… big family.” Dele laughs.

“I know. Chaotic household,” Eric smiles. “I’ll go from oldest to youngest. Biggest brother is Andrew. He’s twenty-five, lives in Spain and is a translator for a school over there. Then it’s me. Wonderful twenty-four year old Eric who is a football coach. Then my other brother Alex, he’s twenty-three and is travelling with his girlfriend. Then Joshua, he’s twenty-one. Last year of university studying law. My biggest sister Robin: she’s twenty and is doing a photography apprenticeship. Then the littlest is Eleanor. She’s eighteen, in her last year of sixth form and she’s a very talented golfer. We’re a family of diverse skills.”

Dele nods as he listens, mentally trying to piece together all the names and ages and occupations. He feels like he’s sat in history GCSE all over again, trying to remember all the facts for his end of year exam about the different kings and queens of England. It’s a lot, but he’s determined to make it work. “Can you, like, text me that exact explanation later and I’ll memorise it? I don’t want to turn up and call someone the wrong name. That would be kind of embarrassing.”

Eric smiles. “Sure,” he says. “Also, my housemates. I told them about you earlier today and they want to meet you. So I sort of need to explain all of that to you, too.”

“Oh, god. Friends. Okay… Give me the lecture.” Dele jokes, aimlessly sipping on his water.

“There’s three. They all do the same job so it’s easy to remember. We’re all coaches for the same youth league. That’s easier than five different jobs. So… first there’s John. He likes to go by Stones. He’s tall and pretty fit and always has a girl in the house. Talk to him about expensive jewellery and he’ll fall in love with you.”

“Stones. Sounds really swanky.”

Eric smiles. “Then there’s Kieran. He’s small but aggressive. Really, really talented. He’s way too mature to be stuck in a house with us three. But he’s nice and we like him and he stops us from burning the house down.”

Dele cracks a smile, chuckling at the idea of four football mad lads setting their house on fire.

“Then there’s Kyle. He should be mature but isn’t. At all. Thinks he’s hilarious but isn’t. Laugh at his jokes and say he has cute kids and he’ll like you.”

“He has kids?” Dele asks.

“Yep. They’re really cute to be honest. But they make a mess of the kitchen and it always annoys Tripps. That’s Kieran’s nickname, by the way,” Eric explains. “And that’s all of us. There are people who come and go, friends and partners and what not. But you’ll get to know them the more time you spend at the house.”

Dele drags his eyebrows together. “So I’m coming over a lot, then?”

Eric shrugs. “If you want. The offer is there if you want to come meet them, say hi. It’s just… they really like getting to know everyone I know. It’s a very tight-knit community. I think you’d get along with all of them.”

Dele nods, staying quiet as their food arrives. They quietly thank the waitress who brings their plates, swatting away her offer for more drinks or extra cheese. “So now I know everything about your family and your friends but I don’t know much about you.”

“What do you want to know?” Eric asks. “But whatever I tell you, you have to tell me the same thing.”

“I’m cool with that. Only after the first question.”

Eric tilts his head to the side. “Okay?”

“What’s your surname?” Dele asks.

“Dier.”

Dele nods. He’s appreciative of Eric for not expecting an answer, and instead just continues with his questions. “Dier, what’s your favourite film?”

“Fight Club. You?”

“Shaun of the Dead,” Dele replies. “Country?”

“Portugal,” Eric answers quickly. “Is yours one you travelled to on your gap year?”

“I liked Japan a lot,” Dele says. “Colour?”

“Yellow.”

“The colour of your eyes.” Dele replies.

Eric is stunned to silence. Dele doesn’t notice how Eric’s face softens, his expression relaxing into one of calm and tranquillity. “Is your meal nice?”

“For an overpriced pasta dish, yeah.” Dele says, gently scraping his fork around the edge of his plate.

“Ah, shit. Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t ask what your budget is.”

“Oh, no. No. I’m not like… having issues with it. Not money wise. Just… moral wise. You know, spending this much money on strands of pasta hurts my heart.” Dele chuckles.

“Oh, good. I was really worried this was about to turn super awkward super quick. Next time we can go somewhere reasonable.” Eric says.

“Like?”

“McDonalds?” Eric suggests.

Dele burst into little coughs of laughter, having to down the rest of his drink to try and retain some calm. People on tables around them turn to look in their direction, casting slightly disapproving glances at the way Dele accidentally kicks the table and sends splashes of water and fizzy drink spilling over the surface. They look a mess, laughing at each other’s laugher and swerving about different conversation topics. It’s nice, albeit a little weird. Dele doesn’t know why he feels so comfortable around Eric, so open to laughing and showing the parts of himself he usually tried to hide from others. He just has a welcoming aura, exuding positivity and friendliness. Which is good, Dele thinks, since he’s going to have to pretend to be in love with him.

“You know,” Dele says. “I’m very excited to pretend to be in love with you for a month.”

Eric smiles. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

They look at each other, their expressions of pure delight matching. They both have a twinkle in their eye, a little hint at their excitement and optimism for what their future holds. A short future, Dele thinks, only a month or so. But, still. A decent amount of time for his life to be exciting once more.

“Good,” Eric finishes. “I am, too.” They clink glasses, despite them being mainly empty from Dele’s accidental spilling incident, and sip on the drinks as if they’re the finest wine in the world. Whatever the next month has in store for them, however complicated or detailed their lie has to become, Dele knows they’ll both enjoy it as long as they’re with each other. Like some sort of bond has already been formed between them, a little inkling of joy at the unknown seeping into their conversations and glances and unusual touches under the table. It was a new feeling for Dele, looking at this _stranger_ and feeling such pleasant anxiety at the prospect of their time together. Perhaps, he thinks, he could start to enjoy Christmas again after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see you on the 8th for the next part! :-)  
> tumblr: johnstnes


	2. Chapter 2

“Do you make it with milk or water?”

Dele looks up from his phone. He’s at Eric’s place, spinning around on one of the chairs outlining the island in the kitchen. He’s having far too much fun spinning about like a child in a computer room at school, playing an occasional game of Candy Crush, so when Eric brings him back to reality he is a little embarrassed and confused. They’ve been doing the ‘fake dating’ thing for a week. It’s the eighth; somehow the first week of December flew by in a wash of Eric sending him weird memes every morning and Indigo continually asking Dele questions about his secret relationship with an unfairly handsome football coach. It’s been a confusing week for Dele, mind constantly stuck between feeling settled in his new fake relationship and ever so suddenly remembering that everything he’s doing is entirely fake.

“Come again?” Dele asks, fingers dinging into the tub of gingerbread men they’d picked up from Asda on the way back from Dele’s work. Eric had gone to get petrol and some decorations for his house and Dele had quietly slipped a few boxes of sweet treats into the basket when Eric hadn’t been looking. It was Saturday after all, and Dele had dealt with agitating customers all day. He deserved a gingerbread man.

“Hot chocolate,” Eric said, gesturing to the two cups on the counter. One was shaped like Santa, with the drooping red hat settling as the handle, while the other attempted to look like a reindeer. “Do you make it with milk or water?”

“Who makes it with milk?” Dele asks. “Water is the only way I’ve made it. Shove in a sachet, fill it with water and stir for twenty minutes until all the powder dissolves.”

“Why don’t you make them with milk? Boil the milk on the hob or in the microwave and it tastes so much better.” Eric says, gently stirring a wooden spoon in the saucepan he hovered over.

“You have to use like… half a carton of milk to do that, though.”

Eric draws his eyebrows together. “And?”

“Milk is expensive, Diet,” Dele says. Diet had become a joke between them after Dele had accidentally entered Eric’s contact name as ‘Eric Diet’, rather than Dier. Eric had found it hilarious and banned Dele from changing it, so now they had established their first inside joke as a ‘couple’. “I can’t be splurging on milky hot chocolate every other day.”

“Well,” Eric says, tipping the warm milk into the two mugs. He stirs for a while, face scrunching as some of the steam stings his eyes. “Consider this a luxury drink. Whenever you’re at Banter Central, you get milk made hot chocolate.”

Dele groans, uttering a small thank you as Eric hands him his drink. “I hate how you call this house Banter Central. It’s such… such a university student thing to do. Not something that graduates and working men say.”

“We train sixteen year old lads all day, Del. I’m pretty sure we are turning into teen boys.” Eric says, smiling over at Dele as he takes his seat opposite him.

They hadn’t risked coming to Eric’s house so far, not wanting to deal with his housemates before they’d established some more groundwork and had spent a lot more time together. So they’d mainly gone to Dele’s apartment. He shares a flat with some university students he met at a bar one time and, knowing their timetables like the back of his hand, could bring Eric over without fear of them walking in and being confused. In the safe haven of Dele’s little apartment they crossed off a lot of traditional ‘firsts’ in a bid to get comfortable around each other.

They held hands while watching an episode of _Friends_ , both blubbering a little as Monica and Chandler finally got engaged surrounded by candles. They evolved from _hugging_ to _embracing_ soon after that, Dele finding extreme comfort in the way he could hear Eric’s heartbeat whenever he found himself pressed against Eric’s chest. Crossing the first kiss off their list took a while, though. Everytime Eric got close Dele descended into a fit of laughter, unable to take the situation seriously. He felt like they were actors on a film set, being asked by the director to do a kissing scene that would lead to a heated romantic moment seconds later. It felt so scripted and cringe-worthy that it took Dele a few minutes to cool down and gather his emotions again. Eric just sat there, frown on his face but smile on his heart, as he watched Dele giggle.

They got there eventually, though. And Dele tried with all his might to not show his disappointment when Eric finally pulled away.

After they broke all the boundaries Eric suggested they go to his house, finally. Apparently his housemates were agitated at how long it was taking Eric to bring the new boy home and had threatened to come to the shop themselves to see him. Which brings Dele back to the present, reminding himself that he is sat opposite Eric who is expecting a reply to the conversation sooner rather than later.

“So where are all the lads, then?” Dele asks, gently drumming his fingertips over the mug. If he left a fingerprint on there too long his skin began to burn, but at the same time the sensation soothed his nerves momentarily. Drumming them just long enough that he felt the heat but didn’t let it harm him kept Dele’s mind off the fact that he’d be greeting a bunch of strangers soon.

“Kyle is having a dad and kids day. Said something about going to the park and making snowmen. So he’ll probably be back later. Tripps is shopping and Stones was dropping a girl back off at her place. He’ll be back first, I guess.” Eric explains.

“Is he going to like me?”

Eric tilts his head to the side. “Are you worried?”

“Sort of? I don’t want these people to hate me when I’m going to be spending a lot of time with them.” Dele shrugs, lifting the mug to take a sip from his drink. He dips the head of a fresh gingerbread man into the drink, relishing in the softness and the taste of the ginger intermingling with the chocolate from his drink. It feels a lot more like Christmas to him now, wrapped in warm jumpers and indulging in all the sweet snacks that were famous for appearing around this time of year.

“That’s so cute,” Eric says. “But yeah, I think he will. You’re both pretty similar. A bit silly, child stuck in a grownup body. I wouldn’t worry about Stones. If you get him on your side the rest will like you, too.”

As if by some cruel festive magic the door opens just at that moment. A call of _Eric_ sounds from the hallway and heavy footsteps echo afterwards. Eric stands and heads back to the kettle, setting up for what looks like a coffee of sorts, just as a very tall man walks into the kitchen.

He’s tall and skinny and as handsome as Eric described him to be. Dele knows it is John just by the watch on his wrist, glinting and gleaming like treasure hidden in a chest on a pirate ship. He looks exactly like the bad boy figure from every film Dele has ever watched. Fluffed up and styled brown hair, killer cheekbones and scruff dirtying the skin around his lips, John is the picture of romance and beauty. He’s wearing a matching sweatpants and jumper set, the grey colour accenting the pinkness in his cheeks and the blue colouring the corner of his lips. His sweatpants are rolled up to just above his ankles despite the freezing weather and his sleeves are hiked just enough that Dele can see a hint of a tattoo on his arm. John Stones is bloody gorgeous, basically, and Dele has to look away just to stop himself from melting to the ground.

“Fuck me, Dier,” John groans, slumping over to where Eric is. He collapses onto Eric’s side, face dissolving into the material of Eric’s jumper. “It’s cold outside.”

“I know, J. I don’t know why you’re not wearing like… a coat.” Eric chuckles, fingers scrunching John’s cheeks.

“Because _fashion_ , Eric. If I have any hope of being scouted by Topman or Boohoo or anyone like that I need to be on point all the time,” John says, eyes lighting with joy as Eric hands him a mug. “Ugh, I love you.”

“Back at you. Also,” Eric says, sensing the swelling awkwardness at how John hadn’t yet noticed Dele. “This is Dele. The guy.”

John stills, eyes comically dragging up from his drink to take in Dele. He blinks a few times, only his eyes visible as he holds his mug up to cover the bottom half of his face.

Dele looks back at John, unsure of whether to speak first or to wait for him to utter some words. “Uhm…” Dele says. “Hi. I’m Dele. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“I changed my mind,” John says, finally crossing the length of the kitchen to set his drink down besides Eric’s. “I hate you, Eric. Why did you not tell me he would be here? I was fully prepared to give you an in-depth description of my evening yesterday, including the gory details. Imagine if I started ranting off about that when he’s sat in the corner?”

“I would’ve loved to hear that.” Dele lies.

John grins. The lie was worth it. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I cannot believe almost-baldy over there has been hiding you from us for a month now.” He says, holding out his fist for Dele to bump.

Dele laughs at Eric’s nickname. “Well, you know. Adult relationships are…”

“Adults.” Dele and John say at the same time. John takes Eric’s seat, still staring intently at Dele. He takes all of him in, from the dye in his hair to the ways in which Dele’s jumper hangs just low enough that you can see his collarbones. It’s a very intimidating situation, Dele remaining still while he essentially lets a stranger judge him in every way in the world.

“So you met at a bonfire? Fireworks display?”

Dele nods. “Yep. I was on my way home from work and saw it from the bus I take. Figured I’d stop by. Saw him lighting sparklers for some kids and thought I’d try and get him to give me one.”

“Then he fell head over heels and asked me to marry him.” Eric adds. Dele gently kicks him under the table, eyes rolling as John laughs in response.

“Modern romance. No wonder divorce rates are so high when people get married over fireworks,” John chuckles. “So you’re going home with him? Must be pretty serious if he’s taking you to the elusive Dier household.”

“Elusive?”

John nods. “Each of the siblings is like a challenge. You ever read _Harry Potter_? The first book? With all those challenges to get to the mirror of Erised? Each sibling is like a challenge. Crack all of them and you get the gold but lose one and you’re out. He hasn’t taken a boy home in months.”

Dele looks over at Eric, Eric who is sadly nodding along to John’s very imaginative description of the Dier household. “Sadly true. When you have five siblings they make it a competition to see who can break the boy first. I think the last guy I took home got to the third before he said something they didn’t like.”

“What did he say?” Dele dares to ask. Suddenly he’s nervous; he didn’t sign up for a challenge television TV show. If he wanted to do that he would’ve gathered the guys from work and applied for _The Chase_ or _Crystal Maze_.

“He said my youngest sister must’ve been a mistake because of the age gap between her and my other siblings.” Eric says.

“Oh,” Dele sighs. Yeah, he definitely wouldn’t say that to anybody. “Bit of a dick move.”

“He was a bit of a dick.” John adds.

“A huge dick.” Eric agrees.

“Didn’t have one, though.” John murmurs.

Dele laughs. Laughs harder than he has for a while. The day continues like that, John making some snarky comment under his breath that sends Dele wild while Eric stands between them with his head in his hands. John brings out a youthfulness Dele didn’t know he still had, some level of immaturity he thought he left behind during his gap year. But here, in a random house watching _golf_ on television, Dele feels in touch with his young self again. Which makes sense. He is only twenty-two, he shouldn’t be afraid to have fun and to laugh.

John switches the Xbox on at some point, sliding in a very old copy of a Tiger Woods game he says he’s had for years. They make the game fun for all though, adding elements of alcohol and drinking in to loosen them up a little. Every time they hit a bunker or a hazard they take a shot, and if they guess within ten yards of the distance of the shot they get to choose someone else to take a drink. It feels very high school, but Dele has already established that Banter Central is a social experiment to see how far adults can go before they turn into seventeen year old boys themselves.

The game loads the fourth hole when the front door opens again. Dele can hear bags banging against the wall, two voices sifting through the frame and uttering profanities about the cold. Dele stiffens a little, again afraid of trying to impress the rest of Eric friends.

“Fuck,” one voice yells, followed by what sounds like a trip and a scuffle and a bubble of giggles from the second voice. “Who the fuck left their shoes right by the door?”

Dele panics. He looks down at his festive socks, little reindeer printed in a repeating pattern, and realises they are indeed his shoes. _Great_ , he thinks. He hasn’t even met these people and he’s already almost killed one of them. The perfect way to start this little meet and greet. Dele looks nervously over at Eric, almost begging for him to help him escape from the situation. Eric doesn’t match his nervous gaze, though. Just ruffles Dele’s hair and gently pats his knee.

“Sorry, lads. They’re Dele’s.” Eric says. Then the swearing stops, instead the noise is now the two guys rapidly trying to burst into the living room. One walks in carrying many different shopping bags while the other just holds a bundle of scarves and coats to his chest. Dele can tell by their heights who is who. He knows the small man, the one carrying bags which are almost as big as him, is Kieran. Or Tripps, as Eric calls him. And the one who is carrying the coats, coats Dele now knows are child-sized, is Kyle.

“Hi,” Dele says. “I’m sorry about my shoes. I didn’t want to step snow into the carpet. I’ll go move them in a second,”

“No,” Kyle is the first to speak. He drops the coats on top of John, drowning him in fluff and melted snowflakes. “Don’t worry about it. Tripps just wasn’t looking.”

“Oi.” Kieran mutters.

Kyle walks over to where Dele and Eric are sat. Dele sits up a little, holding out his hand to greet Kyle properly. “It’s nice to meet you, at long last.”

“You too. I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to put a face to a name.” Dele smiles.

“Oh, tell me about it. Eric doesn’t shut up about you sometimes.”

“Shut up, Kyle.” Eric mutters.

Dele grins. Kieran has approached him now, returning from the kitchen where he had set his bags down. “Apologies for cursing you out a minute ago. I thought it was one of these losers trying to trip me over. They do it a lot.”

“Your name is Tripps, Kieran,” John says. “Can you blame us for doing it? We get to trip the Tripps. It’s comedy cold.”

“You’re just an idiot, Johnathan.” Kieran says. John screws up one of the scarves Kyle dumped on him and tosses it at Kieran’s head, much to the disapproval of Kyle. Kyle cannon balls onto the chair, now squeaking under the extra weight, and the three other lads descend into playful fighting and bubbling laughter. Dele watches, his mind narrating the situation as if it were a David Attenborough documentary, and allows the unusual situation to settle into his mind after the initial panic he felt.

“I told you not to worry about them,” Eric says. He’s very close to Dele, voice quiet and soft as he practically whispers it into Dele’s ear. “They’re children.”

“I’ve never been so confused in my life, Diet,” Dele chuckles. “I assume they don’t mind me being here?”

“Told you they wouldn’t.” Eric murmurs. He presses a kiss to Dele’s cheek, hand resting again on Dele’s knee as they turn to watch the others fighting.

“What was that for?” Dele asks.

“Have to make them believe we’re together.” Eric explains.

Dele nods, accepting the explanation at face value. Until he realises, a few minutes later as Eric leaves to go and make everyone a fresh drink, that none of the lads had even been looking in their direction when Eric kissed him.

❅

“Come to my game tomorrow?” Eric’s voice sounds through the silence and darkness. Dele doesn’t know what time it is, just that it’s late and he definitely should be at home. They ordered takeout at one point, cracking open some beers and putting on some random nature documentary they found on Netflix. Kyle and John fell asleep on each other underneath the coats at about the third episode, their empty beer bottles rolling from their fingertips and falling to the rug moments later. Kieran sits on the floor, eyes droopy but mind still alive as he aimlessly scrolls thorough his phone. Dele and Eric, in a bid to keep up the ‘romance’, leaned into each other. Dele knows Eric dropped off to sleep at various points during the episodes. His breathing had evened and exhales become longer, Eric’s grip around Dele’s shoulders loosening at points as well. Dele tried to sleep but couldn’t. He found himself growing attached to the baby dolphins in the documentary, and couldn’t for the life of him imagine falling asleep without knowing if they made it alive.

“You want me to come to a game?” Dele asks.

Eric nods. “Yeah. I think you’d like it.”

“Okay.” Dele nods, settling back into the warmth of the sofa again. Eric pulls a blanket from beside the chair and drapes it over them, sleepily grabbing for the remote to turn off the television. The minute the glare of the screen disappeared Dele dropped right off, soothed by the warmth of the blanket but more so the warmth of Eric. The beating of his heart, the regularity of his breathing. Dele felt _safe_ , and that was enough to send him into one of the best night’s sleep he had in a while.

❅

Dele wakes up in a bed that isn’t his, wearing clothes that aren’t his in a room that he doesn’t recognise. He immediately knows it isn’t his apartment because of how much space he has. A double bed isn’t something he’s ever owned, so being able so stretch out and make fake snow angels on silky smooth sheets is an immediate indicator to Dele that he’s in a random place. As he peels his eyes open he recounts the events from the day before: coming over to Eric’s, laughing and chatting and having a fun time with all of his housemates. Dele can’t remember going home, and as he glances around the room and takes in the football boots scattered on the floor he works out where he is.

Eric’s room. Without Eric. The space in the bed beside him isn’t warm, rather cool and empty and without creases on the pillow. The curtains are open, though, the gentle flutter of falling snow visible through the slightly foggy glass. The clock on the wall tells Dele it’s very early in the morning, but the noise coming from downstairs suggests this is the time everyone in the house normally wakes up.

Dele’s in a jumper that’s much too big for him, sleeves hanging below the tips of his fingers and neckline drooping low on his chest. He can tell it is Eric’s, but he can’t work out why he’s wearing it. Dele reluctantly pushes back the duvet, summoning the will and strength to stumble out of bed into the cold and trundle downstairs to the source of the noise. The kitchen is substantially warmer than the rest of the house, steam from the kettle and food cooking on the stove rising to the ceiling and showering heat onto all the lads. John is manning the food, occasionally shaking the frying pan to prevent the food from burning, while Kyle works on filling four mugs full of hot water. In the corner, by the back door, there are bags of footballs and training vests and upon seeing them Dele remembers what he agreed to do.

“Morning.” Eric speaks first, greeting Dele with a smile from his seat at the island. There’s a newspaper spread open in front of him, fingers idly tracing the sports articles. To his left side there is a stack of advent calendars, the little bits of chocolate in almost all of them having been eaten already.

“Hey,” Dele smiles. He takes the seat next to Eric, tossing the rest of the lads a smile and soft ‘good mornings’ as they greet him warmly. It’s early, far too early for Dele to be as awake and happy as he is. “Do you people always wake up at the crack of dawn?”

Eric grins. “Games start at nine on Sunday mornings. We have to be there for eight to greet the kids and get them training. Meaning we all get up at six to wake up and sort everything out. Life is hard being a really professional football coach.” He jokes.

“I have a question,” Dele continues. “Did you sleep in the bed with me last night?” He asks.

Eric shakes his head. “No. I thought that would be a bit… weird? You sort of dozed off and I didn’t want you to get back ache. So I got you upstairs and left you there. Since I couldn’t ask if you were comfortable with me being in the bed with you I came and slept on the couch.”

“Oh,” Dele smiles. “That’s cute. Thank you, your bed is very comfortable indeed.”

“No worries, hubby,” Eric jokes. He reaches over to one of the advent calendars, pulling it over and leaving it in front of Dele. “I left door number nine for you. Figured you could start the day with a bit of advent calendar goodness.”

Dele smiles. “God, you’re so adorable.” He laughs, eyes flitting over all the remaining doors. He eventually finds door number nine, prying it open and tapping the chocolate out onto his palm.

“What is it?”

Dele tilts his head to the side, squinting to try and work out the design. “I think it’s a present? I can’t really tell.”

Eric leans in close, moving Dele’s hand slightly to side to get a better look at the sweet. “Yeah… a present. Something must’ve gone wrong in the mould for that one.”

Dele smiles, gently patting Eric’s cheek as he pops the sweet in his mouth. “Thank you.”

“Good morning, lovebirds,” John waltzes over to the table. He has plates in his hands and is followed by Kyle carrying two of the four mugs. Kieran brings up the rear of the parade with the remaining cups, setting them down on the festive-printed coasters dotted on the island. “Banana pancakes for all us worker men and traditional ones for little Delboy.”

“Why do you guys have banana pancakes?” Dele asks. “Oh, thank you, by the way.”

“Because we need to pretend to be healthy. Banana pancakes are utter shit, to be honest. We didn’t want to put you through the pain of having them at your first Banter Central breakfast.” John says.

Dele and Kieran groan in unison. “I hate that nickname.” Kieran says.

“Someone else who is on the same wave length as me.” Dele replies.

Kyle rolls his eyes, flicking a pinch of sugar into Dele’s hair. “Shush, pretty one. Banter Central is great. Enjoy your pancakes or I’ll get John to slip raisins into the batter next time.”

Dele smiles. He chances a look at Eric who reciprocates the grin, and Dele just settles back into the layer of laughter and conversation that characterises ‘Banter Central’ while enjoying his pancakes, even if they are a little raw in the centre.

❅

“I’m freezing,” Dele says, blunt and unimpressed as he stands at the side of the pitch where Eric’s game is happening. The other lads have games elsewhere in the borough and after breakfast they all parted ways, promising to meet up in the local pub for a few drinks when they were finished. The pitch is a school field, makeshift lines having been painted the day before and weak looking goals set up at either end. “I mean, I know it’s December. But we’re stood outside at eight in the morning and it’s snowing. How is this safe?”

“The snow isn’t that thick and the kids have good boots. We wouldn’t play if it was dangerous,” Eric explains, reaching into his bag to toss something at Dele. “Waterproof coat which is wind resistant. It keeps you warm and dry.”

Dele huffs. He can’t even maintain his annoyance after that. Instead he pulls the coat over his body, sitting down on one of the benches set out by grounds staff. Eric is busy spreading out cones for the training session, having occasional conversations with some of the players who had already arrived. Dele watches as the kids run around the perimeter of the grounds, their studs leaving a dotted pattern in the snow as they prepare for the game. It’s an unusual situation for Dele to be in, watching these kids training like they were about to play a World Cup final. But, he thinks, these games are all important to the young lads. They’re here because they love the sport and want to find a way to keep getting better for as long as they can. It makes sense as to why they’re bursting at the seams with passion.

“Excuse me,” Dele is brought back to reality by a high voice beside him. It’s a kid, one who is smaller than Dele even though he is sitting down. “Eric is asking for more cones and they’re under your legs. Do you mind passing them to me?”

Dele peeks under his legs, pulling out the small bag of cones. “There you go.” He smiles, handing them to the kid.

“How do you know Eric?” The kid asks. His breath is visible in the cool air, lips quivering a little as he waits for Dele’s answer.

“We’re, uh. We’re just good friends. Thought I’d come see his boys win a game,” Dele grins. The kid holds his hand out, fingers fisted as he anticipates Dele giving him a fist bump. Dele bumps their hands together. “Go keep warm, then. Your lips are turning blue.” He teases, watching as the small kid jogs happily over to Eric. Eric starts dishing out more cones and more instructions, joining his team in laps around the pitch.

It’s sweet watching him interact with the players, racing them from post to post and getting in on the jokes they toss at each other. Dele imagines the boys are talking about school, rolling off compliments about a girl they have a crush on or complaining about a piece of homework they’re struggling with. Dele imagines Eric nodding along, pretending to sympathise even though he, a grown adult, knows that things will get a lot harder for the lads when they grow up. Eric looks up at one point, matching Dele’s gaze and throwing a smile in his direction. He gestures to the boys and jokingly rolls his eyes, eliciting a small laugh from Dele.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” a new voice says to him. There is a weight on the bench, someone sitting next to Dele and shuffling unusually close. It’s the voice of a guy, one who is wrapped head to toe in warm layers, only his eyes and nose visible between his high scarf and thick beanie. “You new around here?”

Dele blinks a few times. “Uhm… if you haven’t seen be before, isn’t it sort of common sense that I’m new?” He asks. He doesn’t mean for it to be as sarcastic as it sounds. But the guy laughs, a gentle and almost fake-sounding laugh.

“You’re funny,” the guy says. “So who brought you here? You here with a younger brother, or something?”

“I’m here with Eric.” Dele answers.

The guy nods his head, glove-covered hands patting his own thighs to keep them warm. “How do you know Eric?”

Dele shrugs. He doesn’t know how much Eric has told these people about him, and he doesn’t want to be the dick who outs all of his secrets to a bunch of strangers. “Friends. I’m friends with him and his housemates and he asked if I wanted to come and see his game.”

“Cool,” the guys says. They sit in silence for a little longer, watching the training taking place as the second team arrive and flood the field. “I’m going to be really blunt here.”

Dele is a little taken aback. “Okay?” He manages to say, eyes still not leaking away from Eric.

“I think you’re fit,” that draws Dele’s attention, though. “And now I know you’re not here with boss-man I don’t feel half as guilty about asking what I want to ask right now. Do you want to go for a drink sometime?”

“I don’t think that would be appropriate, guy whose name I don’t know.” Dele laughs.

“Why?” The guys asks. “I’m Lewis, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Lewis,” Dele answers. “Well, like. I just don’t think I’m down for drinking with a stranger.”

“Do you have a boyfriend or something?”

“No.” Dele says.

“So what’s stopping you?” Lewis asks.

“The fact that you’re not taking no for an answer and look like you’ve just finished your GCSEs,” Dele says, standing up from the bench. “It’s been nice talking to you, but I’m sort of gonna go now.”

So Dele walks off, a little quicker than he normally would, heading directly to Eric who had just finished packing up the cones. Snowflakes were caught in his beard, face stone cold and a little stiff from the negative temperatures as he tightens his scarf around his neck.

“Hey.” Dele smiles.

Eric looks up at him, keeping eye contact as he tosses a few water bottles to the side of the pitch for the players. “Hey. You doing good?”

“Yeah. Just had to deal with a weird kid-”

“Lewis?” Eric asks.

“Uh,” Dele murmurs. “Yeah. How do you know him?”

Eric grins. “He’s the older brother of one of my players. He’s like… seventeen, I think? Whenever someone new comes around he tries to flirt with them even though he’s literally a child. I didn’t know he was coming today, otherwise I would have warned you.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

“However,” Eric continues. “The fact that he was trying to pick up you kind of suggests you didn’t tell him you have a boyfriend.”

Dele pauses. “I didn’t… I didn’t know if you were out to these people. Didn’t really want to go around saying oh, yeah. I’m shacking it up with the gaffer, just in case you were wondering,” he starts. “Wasn’t about to expose your private life in case you didn’t want that being discussed. But if you aren’t fussed then if anyone asks I’ll say next time.”

Eric leans down to kiss him. _Properly_ kiss him. Lips on lips. Eric is cold, the snowflakes cooling Dele himself as they melt upon touching the heat of his blushing cheeks. It still surprises Dele when things like this happen, especially here in the middle of a school field surrounded by random children and parents.

“You’re a very good fake boyfriend,” Eric says after breaking apart from Dele. “And I’m out to everyone I know. And I don’t hide it from people I don’t. But it’s very sweet you thought about that, though.”

Dele shrugs. “I just know how shitty it is when people do things without your permission.”

Eric nods. There is an essence of understanding in his actions, in the way he gently squeezes Dele’s shoulder and gives him a small embrace. They just stand and appreciate each other’s warmth for a moment, watching as the parents of the players force them to put layers underneath their football shirts and pull their socks over their knees.

“Right,” Eric says. “I need to go win a football game.”

❅

Eric’s team end up winning the game after a very eventful second half. The game remained scoreless until the eightieth minute when a defender on the opposite team tripped Eric’s key striker in the middle of the penalty box. The referee instantly pointed at the spot and all hell broke loose. The lads started shoving each other, slipping on the thin layer of snow and snapping insults at each other. Eric’s team got justice for the fight, though, as the striker slid the ball right into the bottom corner of the net.

Dele congratulated him with a long, _long_ hug and a gentle kiss on his cheek. They lingered for a few minutes afterwards, making sure all the kids were heading home and that they had collected all the cones and balls that belonged to Eric. After seeing the look of pure elation on Eric’s face Dele didn’t mind the cold too much, instead just allowed his heart to fill with warmth everytime he snuck a glance and saw the bright smile coving Eric from cheek to cheek.

They sat in silence in the car, coming down from the high of the game and warming from the awful chill outside as they drove to the pub to meet the other lads. Eric pulled up just as the snow began to thicken, leaving the roads almost impossible to drive and the air even chillier than before. The two of them hurried into the pub, ushering quickly to where the other lads were sat in the corner, celebratory pints already pulled and warm food on the way.

“Honestly, bro,” John is saying. “He tried to take out my goalkeeper. Full on jumping into him. Could’ve gone and knocked him out if he wasn’t a kid.”

Dele laughs. He had just been listening in to the conversations, adding in little comments when he thought his input would be valuable, but otherwise just sat between Eric and Kyle while the other lads caught up on their days work. “I could see you knocking out a kid, J.” Dele says, ducking a little to avoid the flick from John.

“Only when the kid is harming my team.”

“That’s not what happened last month.” Kieran adds.

“Shut up, Tripps.” John warns.

Dele glances between the two, finishing the rest of his drink. “What happened last month?”

“Basically,” Eric joins the conversation. “We were at trials for the league. So, like. Every few months we open up the league to new kids who have just entered the age bracket or who have recently moved to the area. So they come and do some trials and if any coach likes them they can pick the kids for the team.”

“So we’re at the trials,” Kyle continues the conversation, seamlessly speaking like he was reciting a prepared speech. “And there’s this proper rascal of a kid. Thinks he’s the bee’s knees and is proper showing off about his skills. And then John asks him some questions about his previous training and asking if he knows the names of any of the passes and skills he’s doing.”

“And the kid gets really sarcastic. Saying he doesn’t need to know the name of the stuff as long as he can do it,” Kieran again speaks. “And John is like. Well, you do. Because if I’m training you and ask you to do a certain move and you don’t know what to do, it’s not going to work out. I can’t be shouting terms and have you milling about doing fuck all.”

“Correction: I didn’t swear,” John interrupts. “Well… not yet.”

“John gets a bit pissed,” Eric chuckles. “And starts saying he isn’t welcome in the league if he’s going to be really sarcastic and disrespectful. So the kid comes back saying at least he still has hope for success unlike John who is in his twenties and already stuck coaching kids for a living.”

Kieran clears his throat, ready to conclude the tale. “John gets very annoyed, saying that the kid should just leave because he isn’t welcome and he’s a little shit,” the fact John doesn’t interrupt confirms to Dele that he did swear that time. “Kid calls him a talentless twat so John throws a ball in his face.”

Dele splutters on his drink. “ _What_?”

“Right on his nose. Gives him a nosebleed. Luckily nothing was broken, but he got suspended for three games and had to write a formal apology to the board and the family.” Kieran adds.

“The boy was a grade-A idiot. Wasn’t my fault he was obnoxious. I just did what any normal person would.” John justifies.

“Anyway,” Kyle says. “Away from Stonesy’s past in violence. Are we all excited for the work party next week?”

“The what?” Dele asks, casting a nervous look in Eric’s direction. A work party would be their first ‘public’ event, their big debut on the big stage of fraud for all Eric’s friends to witness.

“On Friday,” Eric says. “Work party. All the coaches, the board and some parent volunteers. I told you about it a week ago, remember? You had to book the day off work?”

Dele nods. He does remember that, actually. Perhaps it slipped his mind because he forgot that they were faking everything and for a moment thought he was just spending time with his friends, or people he was close to calling friends. The prospect of events and showing off their fake love had gone from his mind.

“Yeah, sorry. I do remember.”

“So you’re coming with?” John smiles.

“Yeah,” Dele replies. “I’m quite excited. First Christmas party of the year. First one I’ve had a date to in a very long time.”

John grins at him, gently pinching his cheeks before standing up to go and order another round of drinks.

“I forgot to remind you about my work party,” Eric whispers into his ear. “I’m sorry. It completely left my mind.”

“It’s fine,” Dele says, pressing a kiss to Eric’s cheek. He knew Kyle and Kieran were probably trying to read their lips and see what they were talking about, so adding in the little moment of intimacy seemed appropriate. “I’m genuinely excited. Any excuse to get drunk with some people that I like while eating finger food and dancing to Christmas music. I’ll take it.”

“I thought you didn’t like Christmas?”

“Only when I’m working, Diet,” Dele corrects. “Otherwise I’m a ray of festive sunshine.”

Eric nods, a slight look of surprise painting his face. “Well, I’m excited,” he says, looking up as John sets down the fresh drinks. They already agreed to walk back to the so-called Banter Central after this, especially since the snow hadn’t given up and the roads were looking pretty treacherous. The lads had agreed to leave their cars and come pick them up a little later in the day or even tomorrow, so they were letting a bit loose with the pints now. “Okay. Come on, boys. Toast to Christmas.” Eric says.

The boys all hold their drinks up, clinking the rims of their glasses together. “To Christmas.” They say in unison, all taking a large and needy sip of their alcohol afterwards.

❅

Friday.

Dele ended up going into work anyway just to calm his nerves about the Big Debut, as he and Eric had started calling the work party. Indigo seemed more than grateful as he stumbled into work for opening, hugging him very tightly and uttering repeated thanks into his ear. The day was busy, hellish almost, and Dele wanted nothing more than for the day to end. Then he remembered that the end of the day wouldn’t be until midnight, or even later, and then he alternated to wishing time would slow down.

He felt incredibly overwhelmed, essentially. The two of them had gone shopping midweek to try and find something appropriately festive but still fancy for the party because, apparently, Eric’s league prided themselves in being exquisitely dressed while still retaining professionalism and composure. None of Dele’s current wardrobe fulfilled those requirements, so the two of them stalked about shops all day, screeching through racks and taking over changing rooms to find _something_ that satisfied them both.

They settled on something eventually, some slightly casual blazers and button-up shirts that looked expensive but were well in their agreed budget. Because now, in their _super_ serious relationship, they worked out a budget together. It was all very domestic, especially when Eric offered to wash the clothes and teach Dele how to tie a tie, and Dele had to leave Banter Central pretty soon after that so he didn’t panic in front of Eric.

“Right,” Indigo said, finally looking up from her watch. “Done for the day.”

Done for the day. Words Dele had been dreading.

“Oh, Del,” she stops him before he can sulk off. “Enjoy the party tonight.”

“How do you know about that?”

Indigo drags her eyebrows together. “You told me… when you wanted to book this day off work. You okay, chick? You look really stressed.”

Dele runs to the bus. He slips at one point and has to run with damp knees for the rest of the way, but he isn’t bleeding. So it could always be worse.

Dele is nervous as he waits for Eric to pick him up that evening. He’s fiddled with his shirt so much that he accidentally creased the collar and had to get his flatmate to iron it flat for him. He decides against a tie, leaving the first button undone to add to his attempt at a sexy aura. His trousers are slightly cropped and Dele can’t work out whether they’re too short or just right, and spends a good few minutes tugging at the material and altering the tightness of his belt until he feels satisfied.

Then his phone buzzes, a little _I’m outside x_ text lighting up his screen from Eric. Dele had initially been incredibly disappointed when he realised Eric was one of those guys who texts instead of coming to knock on the door. But he let Eric off this one time since it was negative temperatures outside and it was still snowing. He definitely wouldn’t be too thrilled about waiting on someone’s doorstep, so he didn’t really expect Eric to do the same.

Dele pulls his coat tightly around his body as he leaves the flat, being extra careful with his steps as he daintily walks over to Eric’s car. The roads had been gritted earlier in the day to make them easier to drive on, something Dele was glad of since he really didn’t feel like taking the bus or walking to wherever the party was taking place. Eric had described the venue as a hotel convention space, one of those rentable rooms in retail outlets along the high street. So Dele was expecting a Travelodge, if he was honest, something quite small and similar to the rooms he would be in when going to his friends sixth birthday parties as a kid.

“Hey,” Eric greets him with a smile. “You look really good.”

“Thanks,” Dele says. “You don’t think me leaving the tie off is too casual?”

Eric shakes his head. “No,” he answers. “I think you look pretty perfect.”

Dele blushes. He’s grateful for the dark night as Eric doesn’t notice the blush, rather starts carefully driving to the hotel. The streetlights illuminate the way in the darkness, casting little halos of brightness to certain parts of the road while others stay in the shadows. Christmas decorations hang from the rooves and windows of different houses, beautiful flashing lights and twinkling trees that leave the ground looking like a tossed out paint palette.

“What’s this?” Dele asks, picking up a gift bag from beside his feet.

“My secret Santa present,” Eric explains, only chancing taking his eyes off the road for a second. “I got the treasurer. She’s great, keeps us going and sorts out our budget for kits and stuff. It’s some bath stuff that she likes, and a bottle of wine that she always says is her favourite.”

“Shit,” Dele chuckles. “I got my secret Santa a Nandos gift card and some cheap beer from the corner shop.”

“I mean… that sounds pretty perfect to me.”

“Your present is going to be better.” Dele says.

“My present?” Eric asks, voice soft as he looks at Dele after pausing at a red light.

“Yeah?” Dele chuckles. “I’m literally going to your house for Christmas. I can’t turn up and not get you anything. Why are you so surprised, Diet?”

“I don’t really know. You coming with me is a good enough present, honestly.”

Dele gently pats Eric’s knee in response, leaving his hand there for the rest of the drive. As they park at the hotel Dele’s nerves rise again. It’s not a Travelodge. Upon reflection Dele doesn’t really know why he thought the hotel would be a Travelodge and not part of the clearly beautiful and expensive Hilton branch. But the exquisite architecture and huge Christmas trees standing in the window place the hotel worlds away from the simple structure Dele was expecting.

“Ah. This looks fancy.” Dele chuckles, smiling as Eric comes around to his side of the car to open the door.

“It is. Last year they had us travel to Exeter to use one of their fancy hotels. It’s a bit stupid, really. But it makes for some nice photos and good memories. It’s also great to watch John attempt to pull the barmaids.” Eric says, slinging an arm around Dele’s shoulders as they tackle the snowstorm and head inside the hotel.

They dry the soles of their shoes on the red mats laid out in front of the revolving doors, following the signs for the private event afterwards. The room exceeded all of Dele’s expectations for a simple Christmas party. The middle of the room remained empty to act as the dance floor, a glitter ball already spinning above the centre of the space. Circular tables fill the rest of the room, a buffet table lining the wall at the back. The tables have fake snow sprinkled over the covers, little Christmas trees acting as place holders for names and cutlery. There are slabs of butter cut into the shape of snowmen in the middle, napkins folded into birds and Christmas tree embossed cutlery outlining the placemats. It’s fancy, something Dele would expect from a professional office block party and not a youth football league, but it promises to be a wonderful night nonetheless.

“We’re all on table five. You, me, the lads and their partners.” Eric says.

“Their partners?”

Eric nods. “Yeah. Kyle is bringing the girl he’s dating, Tripps is bringing his fiancée and John is probably going to end the night with a girl at the table. He’s _that_ friend in the group. I’m going to go drop the gift off and get some drinks from the bar. John is already there, so you can go say hi to him.”

Dele nods, smiling into the kiss Eric places on his lips before shuffling over to the table. John looks a little gone already, cheeks flushed pink and eyes flitting about the room quite rapidly. “Hey, Stonesboy.”

John grins, pulling Dele down to the seat next to him. “Hi, little one,” he says. “You look so pretty! Did Eric pick this out?”

“He helped me find something I liked. I’m enjoying your whole black attire this evening.” Dele says. He feels very comfortable around John, a lot more than the other two. It’s not that he doesn’t like Kyle or Kieran – because he _does_ – but they have completely different life experiences to Dele. They have kids and proper partners and have lived a very experienced life despite only being a few years older. But John… John is as dim as Dele. Still living like a university student and spending their money on stupid things that they definitely shouldn’t. If this fake relationship weren’t a thing and Dele hadn’t been forced to spend time with Eric’s housemates, John is the only one he could imagine being friends with otherwise.

“Thank you, gorgeous,” John smiles. “I’m going for the model vibe. Like whole black, sleek. Sort of vampire vibe. Hoping that will put me on some best-dressed list.”

“You’re best dressed wherever you go, J.” Dele grins. John pulls him into a very tight hug, squeezing the life out of Dele and offering him a sip of his beer afterwards. John is peppering Dele’s cheek with kisses just as Eric returns, face twisted in confusion as he sits beside Dele and hands him a cup.

“John,” Eric says. “You know this guy is, like, mine?”

Dele flushes at the _mine_. He mentally reminds himself that it’s all fake, and that he isn’t Eric’s. “I know,” John says. “He’s just so pretty I can’t resist him sometimes.”

Dele chuckles, detangling himself from John’s grip so he could shuffle a bit closer to Eric. Eric’s arm finds itself back around Dele’s shoulders, _the rightful place_ , and Dele immediately settles again. “I know he’s pretty, brother.”

“Ugh, stop,” Dele laughs. “You’re going to inflate my ego more than necessary.”

“Just speaking the truth.” Eric says.

“I’ll cheers to that.” John agrees. The three of them hold up their cups, clinking them together in unison.

The rest of their gang arrive pretty soon, all clustered around the table to just chat talk nonsense about how pretty the decorations in the room are. Getting friendly with partners of Kyle and Kieran is pretty easy. Dele just tells them they smell nice and asks them what scent they’re wearing before intercepting and guessing himself. They’re very impressed with his perfume knowledge, and right after that the group blend seamlessly together. They raid the buffet table several times, draining flute after flute of champagne. The music starts Christmassy with occasional modern pop or some 80s songs slipping through the playlist. There are a lot of people there, more than Dele thought. He clearly underestimated how many people work in this football league.

Eric takes him around at one point, introducing him to the treasurer and the other coaches, backroom staff and the different parent volunteers. There are men from across the footballing league district there and guests who work for the FA being invited especially. All of them look at Dele with curious gazes, posing the same question of where he came from and how their relationship started. Dele keeps a hand tucked in Eric’s back pocket, for comfort as well as acting the part of devoted boyfriend, smiling and laughing where appropriate and leaving Eric to explain the story for the most part.

“Bonfire night.” Eric will say, gently squeezing Dele’s side.

“He was lighting sparklers.” Dele will add.

“Love at first sight.”

All Eric’s co-workers swoon at the story, expressing how sweet and romantic it is and wishing them the best for their future. Dele understands what Eric means about how much better it is to attend these events with a _date_ rather than a regular date. The conversation is happier, there are less sympathetic gazes and the whole evening feels a lot nicer.

“Dance with me?” Eric asks, just as Band Aid sounds through the speakers. Dele picks up another champagne flute, following eagerly behind Eric as they find a space on the floor between the thickets of other partygoers. Out of the corner of his eye Dele can see John leaning against the bar, cocktail glass between his fingers and eyes watching the barmaid as she works to fulfil customer needs. Dele sees her trying to ignore him, swatting away his flirtatious gaze and his requests to buy her a drink, and can’t hold in a chuckle as Eric pulls him close.

“John is… great, isn’t he?” Dele laughs.

“Is he at the bar?” Dele nods. “Sexy eyes?”

“Sexy eyes?”

“Yeah,” Eric says. “You know… batting his eyelids. Trying to be all sensual.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“He’s on the pull.”

Dele smiles. “How does it feel to not be on the pull this evening?” He asks, smiling as Eric teasingly twirls him under his arm.

Eric pauses, thinking over his answer, his head jokingly tilting from side to side. “Alright, I guess.”

“Loser,” Dele snickers, pressing a kiss to the curve of Eric’s neck. “I’m having a great evening. It’s not that hard to pretend to be in love with you. Not as hard as I thought.”

“Is it because I’m lovable?” Eric asks.

“Yeah,” Dele shrugs. Eric pulls him a little closer, gently humming to the music as they spin and press against each other. “Very lovable. Whoever gets to love you for real is going to be a very lucky person.”

Eric doesn’t answer him. They keep moving gradually, Dele finding himself entering the familiar state of tranquillity upon hearing Eric’s heartbeat. Dele doesn’t need Eric to answer him, the way they stay so close and so in sync is enough for Dele to know what Eric would have said.

Dele feels Eric kiss his cheek, fingers rubbing gentle circles into his back. He knows to anyone else in the room they look completely whole, two halves finally finding a moment of peace and alone time in what has been a very busy and loud evening. They look whole in the way they sway together, perfectly in sync despite not having any idea of how to dance as a pair. It scares Dele how they fit together. They hardly know each other, have only a week to their relationship and they’re here playing the perfect couple.

He looks up at Eric, stealing a momentary glance, and Eric looks… happy. Calm. Like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. Dele rises ever so slightly onto his tiptoes, pressing a kiss to Eric’s cheek. There’s nobody around to question the legitimacy of their relationship so there’s no need for Dele to kiss him. He just wants to. In that moment under the lights with champagne swimming through his veins he just wants to be as close as possible to Eric.

Among the cool of the air and the bubble of chatter Dele finds tranquillity besides Eric. Finds some sliver of happiness and safety that he didn’t think was possible for a situation like this. He thinks back to how nervous he was hours before, panicked at the prospect of pretending and acting and being kind to people he doesn’t even know. If only he knew how simple it would be, how _nice_ it would be.

There’s no fear of things breaking and falling apart, no way that Dele will have his heart stamped on and torn from his soul. While things aren’t real, as long as they continue to fake and keep this invisible wall between them, Dele can’t get hurt. And he can’t hurt Eric. It’s great. Or, it should be great.

“What are you thinking about?” Eric asks.

“Stuff.” Dele murmurs.

Eric chuckles. “Okay,” he says. “Do you want another drink?”

“I’ll go get them.” Dele says. He leaves Eric with a chaste kiss, smiling in his direction before turning and scuttling off to the bar. He needs a moment to calm down. He’d let himself delve too far into the fantasy, imagining what things would be like if this wasn’t all pretend, wasn’t just make believe. He needs something _stronger_ to make sure he doesn’t fall down that rabbit hole again.

“Hey, little one.” John says.

“Hi, barmaid stalking creep.” Dele says, resting his arms on the bar right next to John.

“You watching me instead of dancing with your beau?” John chuckles, face falling a little as he looks at Dele a bit more intensely. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Think I’m just a bit tipsy. I get all funny looking when the alcohol hits me,” Dele lies. “It’s also a bit nippy in here. Anyway, how’s your evening going?”

“I got her number,” John says. “That’s about it so far. She’s being very vague.”

“Has she told you to piss off yet?”

“No?”

Dele smiles. “You’re still in there, then.”

“Good,” John chuckles. “How about you? Enjoy your nice slow dance?”

“Yeah, actually,” Dele says. He looks over his shoulder, smiling as he sees Eric talking with a group of his friends. They laugh and pull surreal facial expressions, completely lost in the happiness of the party and in the presence of each other. “He’s great, isn’t he?”

“So are you.” John says.

Dele pulls his eyebrows together, thanking the bar staff as they bring him his drink. “Come again?”

“You’re as great as he is. You’re great together.”

“You hardly know me, J. How can you say that?” Dele chuckles.

“Because,” John starts. He turns around, resting his back on the bar and alternates his glance from looking right at Dele to looking at everyone else. “This is going to sound really cliché, and I’m not going to do it for long. But he smiles around you. Not that he doesn’t every other day. But Eric… Eric likes having company. Likes having someone to spend time with. So having that with you is good for him. But you’re different. It’s not just company. It’s friendship. You’re as much a friend to him as a boyfriend.”

Dele clears his throat. “Isn’t that how all relationships should be?”

“Yeah. But they aren’t,” John continues. And, well, fuck. Why is this man turning into some philosopher when he’s drunk? “Like me, right now. I’m just looking for a quick hook-up and someone to add to my speed dial in case I have a _need_. But you’re a friend to him first. Yeah you kiss him and date him and do couple-y things. But you’re an extension of a support system that he likes to have. I see how you look at him. And it isn’t just the look of love, or whatever. It’s a look of trust. You’re happy around him even when he’s not touching you or kissing you or anything else.”

“Well… that’s because he is my friend.” Dele says, meek and quiet.

“I know. And that’s good.”

“Friend.” Dele repeats. All he will ever be. Why is he sad thinking about that? There’s a small sting in his heart as he thinks about how friendship is the maximal status they’ll ever have. Likely chance is after December they won’t even be that. Dele can’t keep coming around to Banter Central when he and Eric have ‘broken up’. Can’t pretend to play happy exes without everyone knowing they were entirely faking it.

 _Grow up_ , Dele says to himself. He’s known Eric two weeks, he shouldn’t be this attached to their little agreement. Unless it’s because he’s thinking beyond the agreement and is finally coming to his senses. Finally realising that perhaps he… _no_. He can’t. He shouldn’t. And he _won’t_.

Eric is his friend. His friend who he is helping get through the festive month. Dele likes the arrangement as much as Eric does. He’s grateful for what Eric is allowing him to do, and he won’t mess that up by letting his own vision blur with feelings or confusing thoughts from the depths of his heart.

Eric looks at him. From the middle of the dancefloor it’s as if everyone else disappears. Eric looks and he smiles and Dele knows he is completely and utterly screwed. Dele smiles back. He holds up his glass to Eric and Eric, not having a drink in his hand, raises an imaginary cup. They cheers to something. Something unspoken, something undisclosed.

Eric curls his fingers, coaxing Dele back to where he is. Dele tips his drink down his neck, accidentally slamming the glass back on the counter. He’s going to clear his mind and enjoy the evening. Be there for Eric, like he agreed. Because at the end of the day he is doing this for _him_. He likes Eric, he really does. Wants to be a good friend and be supportive and make his month as easy as possible.

Dele really likes Eric. But not in _that_ way. He won’t let himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see you on the 15th <3  
> tumblr: johnstnes


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m going to miss you guys.” John is pouting at the boot of Eric’s car, frowning as they load in suitcases and bags of presents and other items that will tide Dele and Eric over until the end of December. It’s Sunday, two days after the Christmas party, and the two of them are about to head to Cheltenham in hopes of avoiding seasonal traffic next week.

The days after the party were interesting. Dele couldn’t look at Eric without being reminded of his internal meltdown about their relationship being fake, vision always creating up an awful scenario of Eric dropping him at the end of December and Dele losing this guy he’s grown to feel like he needs. Almost three weeks into December and Dele can’t picture not speaking to Eric every day, Dele thinks it’s laughable how much he likes Eric already. He knows Eric is growing suspicious of Dele, always looking and asking if he’s okay, but Dele refuses to crack; not yet anyway.

Dele has a plan to pretend to sleep for the entire car journey in order to avoid having the conversation with Eric. He can’t bring himself to admit that he really enjoys Eric’s company and doesn’t want them to revert to not being in each other’s lives come the turn of the new year. So, ingeniously, Dele’s plan is to avoid all emotions and push them away instead of talking about them like an adult.

“I’m going to miss you, too.” Dele says. He’s trying to not get emotional, not wanting to let his fragile interior seep into his face. Unbeknownst to John this would possibly be the last time they saw each other. After all, Eric and Dele were planning on returning towards the end of December and by then they wouldn’t have to fake date anymore. Dele didn’t want to think about never coming here again, never seeing John again and listening to him talk about some girl who flirted with him in a coffee shop. Even Kyle and Kieran, who he hadn’t necessarily bonded with but still valued, were sad as they watched from the door.

“It’s silly, isn’t it? You’re only going for two weeks and you’ll be back before we know it,” John says. “I just can’t believe we don’t get you for Christmas.”

“I know…” Dele frowns. He wants to say that it’s fine, that it doesn’t matter and that next year he’ll spend Christmas at Banter Central. But he _can’t_. He can’t do that to these people he’s grown to adore, can’t extend this lie even more and bring their hopes up only to crush them mere days later.

“Right,” Eric interrupts, sensing a layer of awkwardness settling around them. “We should head. I’ll see you guys when I get back.”

 _I_ , Dele repeats. Only I. Dele waves at the three lads, pulling his rucksack off his back as he slips into Eric’s passenger seat and immediately turns away from Eric. He gazes out the window, eyes following random snowflakes as they twist and turn in the air before settling atop the blanket already covering the pavements. Eric shuts his door, starts his car and they begin heading towards the motorway.

Dele knows Eric wants to speak. Without even looking at him he can detect the words teasing Eric’s lips, waiting for the appropriate moment to speak and utter the sentences that will probably start a very uncomfortable conversation. Dele closes his eyes, holding them tightly shut to faux sleep as Eric drives.

“You know that’s not going to fool me, Del.” Eric says after driving for ten minutes. Dele ‘wakes’ but doesn’t turn, still looking out the window and admiring the winter scenes they pass instead of looking to Eric. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to get through the conversation if he looks at Eric. He’ll probably melt to the ground and dish out every emotion he’s been feeling for the entire year and dunk Eric head first into the pool of Dele’s shut and hidden emotional issues.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Dele simply says.

Eric sighs. “Why? Do you not trust me?” He asks.

“Of course I trust you. I just… don’t want to make a fool out of myself. Especially not in front of you.” Dele shrugs.

“Dele… you sort of already have. The evening of the party… getting you home. You sort of started dishing out compliments about every person we walked past.” Eric laughs.

“I _know_ , but that’s different. This is like… emotional stuff. Not me having a few too many vodka cokes.” Dele shrugs.

“Is it something I said? Did? Since the morning after you’ve been so weird with me.” Eric continues, pushing harder and harder for the conversation Dele so badly didn’t want to have.

“No, no. Of course not,” Dele says. “This sounds exactly like a couple argument.”

“Well… we are a couple.”

“You know what I mean, Eric.” Dele chuckles. He can’t hide the hint of a smile on his lips as Eric speaks, but also can’t bring himself to look him in the eyes.

“Why don’t you want to talk to me about this emotional stuff?”

Dele groans. “Because I don’t, Eric. It’s just me completely overreacting and being a bit stupid and I don’t feel like being so dramatic right now.”

Eric frowns, but doesn’t push any further. He just switches on the radio, humming quietly to the Christmas song that starts playing, and continues driving. Dele drifts in and out of a weak sleep for the first half of the journey, vision fuzzy from mild exhaustion everytime his eyes open. Work had been rough the last week or so; as Christmas drew closer and more customers desperately needed to find gifts for people the working days seemed to get longer and longer. Not only because the shop floor stayed open for an extra hour during the week, but also from the incessant customer complaints Dele had to deal with. In some way, albeit there being a layer of tension simmering between the two, Dele felt glad to be in silence with Eric as they drove to a peaceful paradise.

Eric stops halfway through the journey, claiming he needs some petrol and water to get him through the rest of the drive. Dele nods, watching as Eric leaves the car and heads to the fuel pumps beside them. He returns about ten minutes later, small shopping bag in his hand and a bottle of water stuffed under his armpit. Eric hands Dele the bag, placing the water in the cup holder as Dele peeks through the contents.

There’s a small travel pillow in there, along with some of Dele’s favourite sweets and a crossword book at the bottom. Dele recounts a conversation he and Eric had over takeout before, discussing really pointless things like their favourite soap opera and which, if any, flavour of crisps they would discontinue if they had the chance. The topic of puzzles and sweets came up at one point, Dele retelling a long story about how he and his mum would always sit and do crosswords together when on the train to the seaside or some other town they would visit.

“Thank you.” Dele says.

Eric glances over at Dele. “It’s fine.”

“I’m going to miss this.” Dele murmurs, fingers already gripping the free pen accompanying the puzzle book.

Eric drags his eyebrows together, casting a hesitant look over at Dele. “Miss what?”

“You.”

“Oh,” Eric says, voice quiet and hardly audible over the screeching of the window wipers clearing snow from his vision. “Is this what your whole, like, mood is about?”

Dele nods. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m going to miss you and your company and your friends. And, like. This is the home stretch now. Last event of the season. The minute this is over, everything else is, too.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that, Del.”

“How else can it go?” Dele asks. “You’re not suggesting we keep fake dating for the rest of our lives? Even if we fake break up, I can’t come and spend time at your house or sleep over or do any of the things I’m going to miss about being with you.”

“Why not?” Eric asks. “People stay friends with their exes. It’s normal.”

“Not in the way that I want.” Dele murmurs.

“Well,” says Eric. “What do you want?”

Dele pauses. What _does_ he want? He could be upfront with Eric, tell him the truth about how he’s been feeling recently and how the only reason he got so drunk at the hotel was to make sure he forgot about everything buzzing in his heart. Open up his guts and his soul and tell Eric that maybe, _maybe_ , he was beginning to feel…

No.

Dele just wants to keep Eric in his life. As a friend. A _good_ friend. A good friend he can lie on if he’s feeling tired and can count on to make a perfect cup of tea if he’s had a hard day at work. A friend who he can borrow clothes from because he always feels happier and comfier in them. A friend who just happens to be absolutely gorgeous, to the point that it pains Dele they had to meet under these dreadful circumstances. Because Eric is _lush_. Beyond words to the extent where Dele can’t even look at him sometimes because he starts to wish that he could go past just being friends with him.

They are so close. _So_ close. But, still, not close enough.

“I just want to keep everything the same,” Dele eventually says. “Minus all the fake shit.”

“What fake shit?”

Dele looks over at Eric for the first time during the journey. “You know,” Eric shrugs. “The stuff that friends don’t do.”

Eric doesn’t say anything for a while, just drums his fingers over the steering wheel and clears his throat every now and again. Dele knows he wants to say something, can see in the way he keeps scrunching his nose and casting nervous glances over at Dele. Every time Eric breathes there’s a desperation to speak, but also a reluctant nervousness to be as honest as both of them desire.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” Eric says. “More than you know.”

❅

Eric’s childhood home is, perhaps unsurprisingly, lush. It’s a huge detached structure, outlined by a perfect white picket fence and grand windows gazing out at the world. Trees and bushes and other well-kept greenery decorate the garden, occasional bird baths and feeders visible under the untouched layer of snow covering the area. The driveway is curved, two wheel tracks dug out for all the cars of the guests to follow into the garage. Dele can’t take his eyes off the building: the beautiful ivy hanging from the guttering and the red-brick base shining proudly out at the passing cars capture his attention the minute Eric pulls into the garage. There are string lights hanging from the windowsills, glinting into the daylight and swaying gently from the icy breeze whipping through the air.

Birds hide in the safety of grand trees accenting the garden, some hopping over the grass and leaving little imprints behind them as they scuttle about to try and find food in the otherwise white and lifeless palace of nature. As Dele looks at the house, the garden and the neighbourhood too, he is reminded of a perfect Christmas movie where the whole family reunite and spend the days having snowball fights and sipping eggnog while stood under bundles of mistletoe. Eric did say his family home is very cliché, something that looks like an artist’s rendition of a perfect family life, and Dele couldn’t agree more.

The house screams wealth, as do the array of cars already nesting in the garage. Dele again feels intimidated by Eric’s life, hints of these little snippets of his past that he hadn’t told Dele yet out of fear of scaring him off already making him feel inferior. They all just remind Dele of how different their lives had been growing up but how, despite being worlds apart in terms of their upbringing and economical status, seem to be perfectly alike in every other sense.

“This is… a lot.” Dele says. They hadn’t spoken much for the rest of the journey, allowing their confessions of sadness about leaving each other’s lives soon hang in the car as they scuttled through the countryside and found themselves drawing closer to Cheltenham.

“I did warn you,” Eric says. “Looks like everyone is here except Alex.”

“Alex,” Dele repeats. “Younger brother, travelling?”

Eric smiles. “Yeah,” he says, voice bubbling with unnecessary pride. “Mum did say he’d be arriving a little later than everyone else. I think his flight is delayed because of snow.”

“Where’s he flying back from?” Dele asks. They’re at the boot of the car now, Dele taking the bags of presents while Eric tugs their suitcases and luggage out. It’s bitterly cold, the snow burrowing into their skin and damping all of their clothes. There are a few snowflakes dotted in Eric’s hair, making him look a little like Jack Frost, and Dele has to look away to compose himself.

“Amsterdam, I think,” Eric says. “Typical travelling boy location.”

Dele smiles in agreement, lingering a little behind Eric as they walk the winding path to the front door. Eric opens it without a key or without knocking, and the heat blasts them both in the face as they step in. Dele doesn’t know what he was expecting, he’d sort of stopped trying to imagine what the home would look like out of fear of making himself feel worse about his own flat back home, but he thinks if he’d tried to conjure up an image, it would look exactly like this.

The staircase is circular – _circular ­_ – and winds up the side of the wall to a grand landing. The house seems entirely open plan on the bottom floor, to the left being a lounge, the right being a dining room and right in front of them being the entrance to the kitchen. There are a couple of Christmas trees placed in some of the corners, sparsely decorated with star-shaped lights and an occasional bauble to make them seem a little fuller and more complete. The lights omit an orangey glow, adding to the sense of warmth and friendliness that seems to bounce off the walls. Dele can hear bubbles of conversation floating in from the lounge, an abundance of giggles and perfectly harmonised greetings filling his ears with joy and calm. Eric heads to the foot of the staircase, setting their bags down and hanging their coats on a rack by the front door. He clasps his hands together, tossing a welcoming smile in Dele’s direction.

“Welcome to the Dier home.” Eric smiles.

“Eric?” The voice of a woman sounds closer, accompanied by the clicking of heels on wooden floorboards. A lady Dele assumes is Eric’s mother comes into sight from the kitchen, wine glass balanced between her fingers and smile covering her entire face. She is dressed exquisitely, a floral printed dress hovering just below her knees and hair pulled back into a loose but elegant ponytail. Dele looks between the woman and Eric, noting the similarity in their features and how they both appear to have the same loving glint in their eyes.

“Mum!” Eric smiles. The two of them embrace, Eric much taller than his mother despite her wearing slight heels. They hang onto each other for a considerable time and Dele wonders how long it’s been since Eric had come home. “This is Dele.”

The two finally part, Eric keeping one hand wound around his mother’s waist while the other coaxes Dele into the little group again. Eric’s mum _beams_ , closing the distance between them to drag Dele into a gloriously warm and tight hug. “Dele,” she repeats, leaving a ghost of a kiss on his cheek. “It’s so lovely to meet you. When Eric called to say he’d be bringing someone back with him I didn’t expect someone so pretty.”

Dele blushes a little, chuckling to soothe his fluttering emotions. “Thank you, Mrs Dier.”

“Louise! Please don’t bother with the whole Mrs Dier thing,” Louise laughs. Her voice has the same charismatic charm as Eric’s, able to comfort Dele with every word she says. “How was the journey?”

“Not too bad, actually,” Eric answers. Louise keeps an arm around Dele, gently rubbing his back and coaxing him into a state of tranquillity. He already feels immediately calmer, a little bubble of confidence bursting inside him. “Took about three hours, I think? We made a few stops along the way when the snow got a bit difficult. We left at half eight, so I’m dying for some lunch.”

“I know, my love. The snow is ridiculous, right?” Louise says. “Elle and Robin have been in the back garden making snowmen since they woke up this morning. Sometimes I forget that I don’t have mature children, since most of you all act like schoolkids.”

“Hey,” another voice joins their conversation. Dele turns around to the entrance of the lounge, and decides right in that moment that the Dier genes are strong. He doesn’t know which sister it is, but is certain that she is related to Eric. They all seem to have the same jawline, and possess identical eyes even if the colour differs ever so slightly. “Are you calling us immature, mum?”

“Eleanor,” Eric smiles. Eleanor looks confused to be addressed by her full name, but Dele knows it was only used for his benefit. He tosses a grateful smile in Eric’s direction, wanting to non-verbally express his thanks for Eric’s help so far. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, big bro,” Eleanor – _Elle_ , his mind corrects – says. She bounces over to Eric, rising onto the top of her tiptoes to hug him. “Is this the guy mum was telling us about. Dele, right?” She asks, turning to look at Dele.

“Yeah,” Dele says. “That’s me. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You’re very pretty.” Elle smiles.

“Oi,” Eric chuckles, extracting Dele from the grasp of his mum and Elle’s intimidating gaze. “Hands off, little one. I’ve already had to ban John from trying to drunkenly flirt with my boyfriend.”

And, oh. Right. Boyfriend. Fake dating. Dele had forgotten again, somehow. He was being treated so well as a friend, like an extension of Eric who had been around for a very long time, that the nature of his and Eric’s relationship had disappeared from him. Part of Dele began to wonder whether he was deliberately choosing to ignore the falsity of their relationship but, the other part argued, this wasn’t the time or place to be having this mental debate.

“Oh, John,” Elle says. Her voice softens and Dele can almost see the hearts in her eyes. “Couldn’t you have invited him as well?”

“How many times do I have to remind you that you aren’t going to sleep with my best friend, Elle?” Eric says.

“Language, Eric,” Louise says. Dele doesn’t remember her leaving, but she’s returned now with a plate of steaming drinks. All of the mugs have initials on, two E’s and a D, and the smell alone makes Dele smile. He thanks Louise as he takes his mug, heart filling with familiarity at the taste of the hot chocolate. It’s exactly like the ones Eric makes, and Dele feels a little sick upon realising how tight the Dier family are. “And anyway, as lovely as John is, he’s not our guest this Christmas.”

“I know,” Elle says. “Sorry. I’m Eleanor, but I go by Elle.”

“Dele. And I go by Dele.”

Elle chuckles. “Funny,” she says. “So, why are we stood in the foyer when everyone else is in the lounge?”

Elle brings the group back into the lounge. There’s a fireplace, _of course_ there’s a fireplace, and fine cream-coloured sofas outline the rug set in front of it. Their TV hangs above the fire, currently playing some football that’s taking place in Manchester: the commentators are talking about someone called Pickfort – or was it Pickford? – and as Dele looks at the screen he is greeted with the sight of an angry-looking man wearing a yellow long-sleeved shirt screaming at the players around his goal. The sofas are mainly occupied, an array of people either lounging on them or hunched over playing what appears to be a very intense game of Monopoly on the coffee table. There’s a girl sitting on the floor, resting between the legs of someone on the sofa, one hand rolling some dice while the other brushes the fur of a sleeping dog. It’s sickeningly sweet, like a photo on the front of a holiday card or the opening scene on a DFS furniture sale advert.

“Guys. Eric and his date are here.” Elle says, voice ringing in the air as she jumps over the back of the sofa and takes one of the only remaining seats. All the heads snap immediately, a variety of smiles greeting Dele and Eric. Dele can guess a few of the people based on their appearance, but a couple seem to be strangers who don’t look anything like the Dier family.

“Hey,” Eric says. His hand is tucked into Dele’s back pocket, acting as an anchor to keep Dele still and calm as the rest of the introductions take place. “This is Dele. And Dele… this is everyone.”

 _Everyone_ takes turns introducing themselves. Eric’s dad, Jeremy, is in the middle of the pack, manning the bank of the game of Monopoly as he sips on mulled cider. On one of the sofas is Andrew, the Spanish teacher, and his wife Lea. Dele mentally curses Eric for not telling him about the extensive list of partners the Dier family have as he is introduced to Zoe, Robin’s girlfriend whose legs she is resting against, and Joshua and his partner April. There are a lot of women, but Dele knows there is going to be another lad when Alex arrives from his travels. They’re all gorgeous, Dele didn’t expect any less, but he’s instantly more terrified. The family all find seats around the coffee table, Louise taking one of the remaining spots on the sofas while Eric and Dele perch beside Robin on the floor. The game of Monopoly pauses as Dele introduces himself, consciously leaning into Eric as a solid support system while answering the endless list of questions the family have for him.

They all die down after a moment, Jeremy commanding attention and throwing the dice onto the board again. Dele goes to exhale, wanting to breathe a sigh of relief, when someone taps his knee. He turns to look at Robin, pulling on a smile to reciprocate the one she gives him.

“So far so good?” She asks.

“Come again?” Dele chuckles.

“I mean,” Robin says, gesturing with her wine glass to the family surrounding the room. “Quite an overwhelming scenario to come in to. You’re still breathing, which is a good sign.”

Dele smiles. “Very true.” he says. Robin tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. She’s wearing a ring, a small golden band encircling her ring finger and glinting under the neutral lights. Dele wants to ask, but she goes to continue speaking before he can get his words out.

“Are you excited to spend the holidays here? Our family is basically the plot of _Love, Actually_ without a famous Prime Minister. Loads of different stories that all come together as one during Christmas. This house is basically our very own 10 Downing Street.” Robin says.

Dele likes her. She is funny without trying too hard, humour falling into her words and etching onto her face with minimal effort. “I am, to be fair. Rather be here than back home. My first Christmas off in a very long time. I’m very glad to be sat in front of a fire instead of bending over a till all day.”

“Oh, of course. You work in retail. Eric did mention that,” Robin says. She pauses for a second to roll the dice and move her piece around the board, engaging in some mundane banter with her family before turning back to Dele. “I can’t believe you managed to book all these days off. The place I’m doing my apprenticeship with bans people from taking more than three consecutive days off around this time.”

“Is that the photography business?” Dele asks.

Robin smiles. “Yeah,” she says, voice alight with happiness at the fact Dele remembered details about her life. “Do you want another drink? There’s some alcohol in the kitchen. Or, just, water if you’re not feeling like drinking.”

“I’ll go grab one,” Dele smiles, turning to look at Eric. “Hey.”

Eric looks up from the Christmas card he was reading. “Hi,” he says. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Dele murmurs. “I’m going to grab a drink. Do you fancy anything?”

“I think mum made some mulled cider. I’ll take a glass of that.” Eric says, pressing a kiss to Dele’s cheek. He can feel the eyes of the family members glued to the two of them, ogling at this new pairing as if they were exotic birds in a pet shop.

Dele nods. He gently squeezes Eric’s thigh, picking up a few empty glasses as he goes to find the kitchen. It’s a beautiful kitchen, unsurprisingly. There’s a huge island in the middle, plenty of chairs outlining it and bowls of the ripest fruit and freshest biscuits in the centre. It smells like cinnamon and ginger, ingredients for baking and packets of sugar open on the countertop. There is a bunch of mistletoe hanging from the open arch, and Dele chuckles a little as he passes under it and heads to the bowl of mulled cider.

“Dele, right?”

Dele jumps, ladle slipping through his fingers and splashing drops of mulled cider everywhere. He turns, bubbles of nervous laughter escaping his lips as he sees who has greeted him. It’s Joshua, or Josh as he asks to be called. His hands are covered in festive-printed oven gloves, long hair pulled back into a surprisingly elegant-looking bun.

“Yeah. Sorry, you completely caught me off guard.” Dele chuckles as he tears off some paper towel to clean up his mess.

“Sorry. I thought you saw me follow you,” Josh apologises. He kneels down by the oven, pulling out a tray of freshly baked gingerbread men. _Really_ , Dele thinks. This house is literally a Christmas film in the making. Mistletoe everywhere, board games being played as the whole family get along and trays of freshly baked goodies falling out the oven every ten minutes. “Fancy icing some gingerbread men? Or, well, gingerbread random-shaped biscuits?”

Dele sets down the cups he’d been filling, taking only his own over to the counter besides Josh. He looks down at the biscuits, cracking a smile at the attempts of Christmas tree shapes and what looks like a Santa hat. “Sure. Monopoly is too confusing for me to understand, so I can go for some decorating.”

“Oh, same. April always goes on about tactics and it goes right through me.” Josh chuckles. He cuts the end off of some icing bags, placing a scalloped tip in the bottom. The icing is freshly made, overflowing bowls set on the kitchen counter, and the two of them chat about casual things as they fill the bags up.

“So,” Dele says, eyes and mind focused on the biscuit he’s leaning over. “Your law firm let you have your hair pulled back like that?”

“Well. I’m not working officially yet. I’m in my last few months of uni, but I’ve done some placements and internships at firms and they haven’t minded,” Josh says. He dips his finger into the bowl of icing and swipes it over Dele’s cheek. “I’ve had some people say it gives me some modern lawyer vibe. Like I’ve walked right off a TV show.”

“Oh, yeah. I can see why they’d say that,” Dele chuckles, pinching some icing sugar to throw back at Josh. Josh reminds him a little of John, a bit like an individual in the huge group with clearly identifiable characteristics. He doesn’t hold the same sophistication as his parents and other siblings, the Christmas-printed Hawaiian shirt being a good symbol of that, but he still fits in nonetheless. Josh has a similar humour to John, almost identical traits and for that Dele feels calm around him. “You’ve got the sort of, like, seductive vibe. If you were a character you’d charm the opposing lawyer or something with your luxurious hair and sultry eyes. It’d be a huge scandal.”

“But would I win the case?” Josh asks.

Dele pauses, tilting his head to the side in fake contemplation. “Of course.”

There’s a flash from the archway, both Dele and Josh looking up. It’s Louise, phone in her hands and smile painted on her face. “Sorry,” she says. “I could just hear your laughter and wondered what was going on. Also Eric kept complaining that his drink hadn’t arrived.”

“Oh, God. I completely forgot about that.” Dele chuckles. He wipes his hands on a tea towel and ruffles Josh’s hair as he goes to fill up two cups again.

“We got a bit preoccupied with the biscuits,” Josh says. He piles their finished masterpieces onto a plate, picking up both that and a fresh bottle of beer from a cooler on the floor. “And why can’t Mr Eric Dier get his own drink?”

“Behave, Joshua,” Louise laughs. “I’m glad you’re finished, though. Because I need to start cooking lunch.”

“Lunch?” Dele asks.

“Mum always makes huge dinners at Christmas. Like, every single day. The family sort of alternate responsibility. You’ll probably double your weight by the time you leave,” Josh chuckles. “Anyway. We’ll leave you be.”

Dele and Josh accept hugs from Louise as they leave the kitchen, jokingly bumping into each other on the walk back to the lounge. The game of Monopoly seems to have intensified in the time the two of them had gone. Eric is now apparently playing, having already purchased a few properties that rest on the table in front of him. There is less conversation now, only intense gazes and the sound of dice bumping along the wood to fill the air.

Dele presses a kiss to Eric’s cheek as he sits down, handing him the long overdue cup of mulled cider. “Sorry it’s so late,” Dele whispers. He doesn’t know why he’s whispering, he just feels very aware of how quiet the room is and doesn’t want to be the awkward person who breaks the layer of playful tension. “Biscuits.”

Dele gestures over to the plate of gingerbread biscuits Josh places on the table, hands already diving in to grab a few before they’re all gone. Eric rests a hand on Dele’s thigh. “I’m glad you’re settling in well.”

“Huh?”

“It’s very intimidating coming here,” Eric continues. “A lot of people, a lot of personalities. I’m just glad to see you getting on with everyone. It’ll make this enjoyable for you as well as me.”

“Oh,” Dele murmurs. “Well, yeah. Your family seem cool.”

Eric presses a kiss to Dele’s cheek, very close to the corner of his lips, just close enough that if Dele moved ever so slightly they’d be _properly_ kissing. Dele relishes in the closeness, in the way they’re pressed together and almost breathing each other in.

“If the two lovebirds are done boasting about their love,” Robin pulls the two of them back into reality. “It’s Eric’s turn to roll the dice.”

❅

“So…” Dele says, arms crossed over his chest as he walks around the room. “This is your childhood bedroom?”

It’s a big room, big enough for a double bed and it even has a small balcony extending into the back garden. Everything is a muted grey colour, small circular marks on the walls showing the ghost of posters that once hung on the surfaces. While the room clearly isn’t lived in, and hasn’t been lived in for a while, it is untouched. There are creases on the bedsheets from months before, an odd sock sticking out from under the bed and newspapers from the past folded up on the bedside table. The walls cry out stories and tales from the past, and if Dele thinks hard enough he can picture a young Eric growing and learning and developing in this very room.

“Nice little room, isn’t it? Well, I mean. Not little literally, just figuratively,” Eric chuckles. “It looked a lot different back in the day. More posters of people and musicians I liked. A lot more mess. It’s weird seeing it so bare. Like, I can picture how it was at every single point in my life, and now it’s never going to face a redecoration ever again.”

“That’s life, I guess.” Dele smiles.

Eric chuckles. “Yeah,” he says. “Come sit.”

Eric taps the space beside him on the bed, the plush blanket engulfing his palm. Dele perches on the end of the bed, hand patting Eric’s thigh and eyes taking in the snow falling in the darkness outside. Lunch had been pretty extensive, a couple of courses and dessert following later in the evening, and Dele had forgotten what it felt to feel so _full_. He didn’t think he’d be able to eat anything for a week, which wouldn’t work since Louise had already asked him to help cook tomorrows food.

“Am I doing well so far?” Dele asks. “You know, in the whole acting like I’m in love with you.”

“Yeah, I think you’re doing great. You seem to be getting along with Josh and Robin quite well. My mum is in love with you, I’m pretty sure.” Eric chuckles.

“Ugh,” Dele groans. “I hate this.”

“Come again?”

“I hate this,” Dele repeats. “I hate this lying. Your family are all such good people. I hate leading them on like this. Do you know how many photos your mum has taken of me today? Only for me to disappear from her life way before she has the chance to print and frame them? I think I’m just… a bit drunk on mulled cider or something. But I just feel bad every time I say a single word to any of them.”

Eric stays quiet. They both know Dele is right. As much as him being here makes everything easier for Eric and brings the family spirit together more, it’ll just be worse when he has to go. Like Dele is a guest in the Dier Hotel, checking in for two weeks and leaving before the owners even realise he’s gone.

“I think we should go to sleep. It’s going to be a busy day tomorrow.”

❅

Dele wakes during the night.

He’s comfortable and warm and very, very happy. But, still, he can’t relax. Eric is turned away from him, curled into his covers and deaf to the world happening around him. Dele rolls out of the bed, pulling the sleeves of his jumper over his fingers as he slips out the room and heads downstairs. He thinks a glass of water will calm him down a little, soothe his unsettled stomach and give him a chance to breathe out some remaining energy from the day’s antics.

The kitchen light is on as Dele comes to the bottom of the staircase, gentle voices echoing around the marble surfaces. Dele squints at the time on his phone. It’s three in the morning; Dele doesn’t know who else would be up at this point, and he also doesn’t recognise the sound of the main voice speaking. Dele turns the corner and smiles as he walks into the kitchen, taking in the sight of a figure slumped against the counter, hand dragging through their hair and phone pressed to their ear.

“Hi,” Dele says. He guesses that the person is Alex, the last remaining Dier sibling. He’s on the phone; or, well, is just hanging up from a phone call. There are suitcases at his feet, a backpack hanging loosely off his shoulders. His eyes are red from exhaustion, hair frizzed and clothes damp from the snow. “I’m Dele. You’re-”

“Alex,” Eric’s brother says. “It’s nice to meet you. Did I wake you?”

“Oh, no. I can’t sleep,” Dele chuckles. He pulls a glass from the cabinet, heading to the sink to fill it. “I heard your flight was delayed, and you look really tired.”

“Shattered,” Alex laughs. “I was meant to land at ten yesterday morning. I landed an hour ago. My flight was delayed, delayed and then straight up cancelled. I was just calling my partner to let them know I’m back safe. It was pretty rough weather out. I love travelling and winter but man, do I hate snow.”

Dele grins. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I did the travelling gap year thing. I got stuck in Canada because of snow. Snow there and snow here. It was a long evening.”

“Is everyone else already here? Like… all the siblings.” Alex asks.

“Yeah, I think so. There’s a lot of you, so. It’s hard to keep track.” Dele jokes.

Alex rolls his eyes, scrunching up a piece of tissue to throw at Dele. “Never heard that joke before,” he says. “Anyway. I hope this doesn’t sound rude, but I’m very tired and it’s very late. It’s been nice meeting you and I must say you’re as pretty as Eric has been telling all of us. But if I don’t go to sleep now I’ll be dead for the rest of Christmas.”

Dele laughs. “I don’t mind. I’m a dick when I’m tired, and you’re being surprisingly nice for someone who has been stranded in a foreign country for a long time.”

Alex grins. “Great,” he pats Dele on the head, taking the glass from him and finishing the rest himself. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

❅

Dele wakes up with a weight on his side, an arm draped over his chest and breath dancing over his cheekbones. As he drags his eyes open he is greeted by the sight of a sleeping Eric Dier, completely out to rest of the world and mind blissfully living out fantasies that only his subconscious would be able to create. A glance at Dele’s phone on the bedside table tells him it’s only seven and that, despite the noise downstairs – is the Dier household exactly like Banter Central, or something? – they don’t need to bother with waking up for a decent amount of time.

So Dele just lets Eric keep sleeping. Dele scrolls through his phone for about half an hour, answering some texts from Indigo about his holiday so far and even snaps a picture of dozing Eric to send to the Banter Central groupchat which he was added to a while back. There is snow falling outside; Dele can see the shadows of the flakes falling through the curtains, the sunlight projecting the perfect black and white depiction of a winter’s scene onto the material. The house is warm and smells of food and love, and there isn’t a doubt in Dele’s mind that Louise is downstairs cooking a luxurious breakfast for the entire house to devour as they all trickle downstairs eventually. Dele feels comfortable, a lot more comfortable than he has in a while. And, soon after, ends up dozing off again himself.

Robin knocks on the door a while later, peeking her head around the door to tell that lads that breakfast is ready and that Alex has returned but, upon seeing the two of them sleeping on each other like exhausted puppies, shuts the door and leaves them alone. They can get leftovers later, she thinks.

❅

The family quickly assert themselves back into their rightful positions in the lounge, Alex fitting seamlessly in by sandwiching himself at the end of one of the sofas. And Dele thinks that the room finally feels complete. There hadn’t been a noticeable gap the day before, but with Alex’s dry humour and youthful glow beaming in his corner, Dele thinks that the Dier household is complete and that Christmas can eventually begin here.

Louise greeted all the family by handing them a mug of hot chocolate and a little blue box with a ribbon wrapped around it. If Dele didn’t know better he would’ve thought it to be a Tiffany’s box but, given his extensive knowledge of women’s luxury items, can tell it is just a pretty decoration Louise picked up from a convenience store. Inside each box, resting under lovingly layered tissue paper, are ornaments. Ornaments shaped into the initials of everyone in the room. Eric has one, April has one: all the siblings and the partners have an ornament, even Dele. He feels undeserving of such sincerity, of course, having only been in the Dier’s lives for a day. But he thanks Louise graciously and waits for his turn before hanging the ornament on the biggest Christmas tree set up in the lounge. All the initials twinkle beautifully under the string lights woven around the branches, all glinting with pride as they are positioned to beam out at anyone who looks at the tree. Louise snaps a photo of the completed tree, gushing about how beautiful it looks and how wonderful it is to finally have everyone at home again.

The family descend into casual conversation once again. While everyone seems to catch up properly Dele busies himself by highlighting the Christmas Times magazine, something he would always do as a kid and continued doing even as an adult. For some reason the simple act of circling the television programmes he was interested in but most likely wouldn’t get round to watching filled him with festive joy, and he was left to do so in peace until Eric brought him back into conversation.

“Oh, Dele. I completely forgot to introduce you to Alex,” Eric says, his hand cementing itself on Dele’s back again. “Alex, this is Dele.”

“I know who he is,” Dele says, smiling over at Alex. He looks a lot more awake this morning, eyes not so droopy and hair not as greasy. It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep can do for a person. “We met last night.”

“Last night?” Eric asks.

“Yeah,” Alex nods. “I got here really late. Delboy couldn’t sleep and came down to get some water. He was the first person to know I was back, actually.”

“Oh,” Eric smiles. “Well, I’m glad that awkward introduction is out of the way.”

“Did you get some decent sleep in the end, Dele?” Alex asks.

Dele smiles, nodding gratefully in response to Alex’s question. “I did, yeah. Think my late night wander tired me out properly. And getting to sleep next to this one always soothes me.”

Eric’s hand stops on Dele’s back, pausing from the circles he had begun to rub. Dele glances up at Eric, confused and hyperaware of what he had just said.

“That’s cute.” Alex says, bringing the conversation back together again.

“Hey,” Elle says. Dele hadn’t noticed her leaving the room but she makes an entrance upon her return. She’s holding a pile of coats in her arms, herself already being decked out in patterned gloves with a fluffy scarf folded around her neck. “It’s been snowing for a week and I finally have people to have a snowball fight with.”

❅

It’s bitterly cold outside, the thick layers of a jumper and a coat and a scarf and two pairs of gloves still not enough to keep Dele warm to any degree. He is shivering and is damp and the boots that Andrew loaned him are too big and have little holes on the bottom so with every step Dele takes he gets damper and wearier. The back garden is as extravagant as the front. After exiting through the conservatory and gliding over the iced patio the grass extends almost further than the eye can see. There are icicles hanging from a gazebo towards the back of the garden, more bird baths and feeders dotted about to decorate the rest of the usually green expanse. The sky is painted white, crying tears of snow and whipping up stormy clouds that occasionally hinder the sunlight from sprinkling down on the world.

The Dier children split into two teams, with the one rule being that partners have to be divided. So while Dele, Robin and Andrew stay on one team, Eric, Zoe and Lea play on the other side. Dele sees it as a chance to completely humiliate Eric in front of his family, and in that moment decides the cold isn’t too bad. Alex finishes Team Dele, while Eleanor rightfully claims captain of the others. Elle seems to delve into a clever masterplan the minute her team huddle, tossing arms out in every direction and her mimes suggesting clever tactics for how to fool the other team. Dele, on the other hand, takes it as a chance to complain about the cold weather.

“I’m cold.” He says, simple and straight to the point.

“Same,” Andrew mutters. “I don’t know why I can’t stay inside with the adults.”

“Because you’re only twenty-five, Andy,” Robin says, gently patting her brother’s cheek. “That doesn’t grant you freedom from Elle’s weird little games.”

“You know the minute you’re too old for a good snowball fight that you’ll miss it,” Alex shrugs. “But, for now, let’s completely tear those losers apart.”

They establish some ground rules before they begin. Shots have to be between the shoulders and hips; an occasional blow to the face won’t be a punishable offence but if a player is seen to repeatedly and deliberately aim for someone’s face they’ll be suspended and forced to lie face-down in the snow until the end of the game. Snowballs can’t be bigger than two handfuls and only one can be thrown at a time. They have to rally Jeremy to stand on the patio to be a referee, ordering him to count how many times each player gets hit. Everyone has three lives, depleting by one every single time they are hit, and when all lives are gone they are out. Much like dodgeball, the game is won when all players on one team are out.

Dele didn’t think that a snowball fight could be so complex, but the minute the game begins there is an air of intensity and competition that bubbles among the chilly breeze. Team Elle immediately dash off to different points on the ground, hiding behind trees or standing in the gazebo to try and get some height on the rest of the competitors. Team Dele keep together and begin digging in the snow to build a makeshift shelter. It’s essentially a haphazardly constructed wall of snow, somewhere that they can sit and chat and giggle as they make an excessive amount of snowballs.

The game gets intense quite quickly. Elle orders all her players to throw at the same time, demolishing the top part of their wall and skimming snowballs over the tops of their hats. Jeremy declares that no players are out as the snow only hit their heads, but encourages them to move around and make things a little exciting. The players dive from behind their hiding places, firing icy balls of fear and pain at their family members. Andrew is the first to be out; a forceful throw from Lea hits him right in the stomach and knocks him right out onto the ground. He doesn’t complain, though, but rather gladly trundles inside to be greeted by a piping hot cup of tea handed to him by Louise. Zoe and Eric get knocked out next thanks to a perfectly orchestrated attack by Alex and Dele. They fire at the same time, catching the two by surprise and hitting them on their back and arm respectfully. Robin gets suspended for deliberately hitting Elle in the head three times, but gladly takes her punishment following the thrill she got from seeing her sister scream about the cold.

The remaining members roll through the snow, diving and jumping to avoid shots. Dele imagines that the last few moments happen in slow motion, the snowballs spinning through mid-air at a comically slow pace while their faces contort into cries about ducking and avoiding the cleverly calculated shots. Dele can’t feel his face, the cool completely numbing his skin and seeping through his layers of clothes as he rushes around the garden entirely immersed in the game.

It’s worth it, though: Team Dele rise victorious, everyone grinning cheek to cheek as they walk back inside. Louise stops them to snap a photo of the teams, Team Dele all pulling a weird hand gesture that he’d taught them while they were hiding behind their wall of snow.

“Right,” Louise commandeers attention from the room. “Everyone take it in turns to go shower and clean off. We have to finish wrapping gifts afterwards.”

Dele and Eric excuse themselves first, heading up to the bedroom to start warming themselves up again. Eric slips into his en suite first, telling Dele to stand by the radiator to warm up while he waits. When Eric steps out, hair drenched and towel wrapped around his waist, Dele can’t help but look. He tries to be subtle, only glancing occasionally, but he knows Eric sees him. Eric doesn’t say anything, just tells Dele that the bathroom is free now, as if that fact wasn’t already obvious.

Eric stops him on his way in, though, his hands warm from the shower juxtaposing completely to the coolness of Dele’s own. He leans down and kisses him. There’s nobody around, nobody to prove themselves to and no reason to act like a couple. Just Dele and Eric, stood in Eric’s childhood bedroom. When Eric pulls away Dele swallows thickly, trapping his thoughts and his words and his emotions for another time.

Dele doesn’t say anything as he walks into the bathroom. He shuts the door and leans against it, exhaling deeply and staring into the bright white light hanging above him. Dele’s breathing is deep and desperate, yearning for some reason as to _why_ that just happened and _why_ Dele enjoyed it so much.

It’s because you _like_ him, his mind retorts, unhelpfully confusing Dele’s situation even more. He doesn’t know how much longer he can deny it, how many more days he can go pretending that he isn’t faking anything anymore. Dele can’t even remember the last time he acted as if everything were pretend. Because it’s true, he now knows.

He _likes_ Eric Dier. Likes how he looks and how he sounds and how he makes Dele feel when he brings him his favourite coffee after work every day. Dele likes the way they walk Eric’s dogs together and joke about what it would be like if they got their own one day. Dele likes how it feels when Eric slings an arm around his shoulder in public or how his heart fills with warmth when Eric’s fingers dip into his back pocket.

Dele likes Eric, and it’s going to completely ruin his life.

❅

Dele wakes up on the nineteenth to more noise than the last couple of days. Yesterday had been a little quieter as Louise and Jeremy continued preparations for the illustrious Dier family party, preparations which Dele assisted in as he scuttled downstairs and helped roll out pastry for handmade sausage rolls. He just needed an excuse to keep his mind off the tragic realisation which had infected his mind and continued to taunt his thoughts every second of the day.

As long as he was rolling pastry or stirring spoons of sugar into mugs of coffee Dele couldn’t think about how soul-crushingly in love he was with Eric. Over the course of the last two days Dele had realised his feelings were a little more than a simple crush but had been reluctant to address the issue head on. But waking up next to Eric, curled up in his side and yearning for the comfort Eric gave when he wrapped an arm around Dele’s shoulders, confirmed the dreaded truth to him: he loves Eric.

Eric didn’t seem bothered by the noise, still sleeping soundly as bubbles of breath ooze out between his slightly parted lips. Dele peels Eric’s arm from under him, rather squeezing out of the bed and pottering down to the kitchen. The trees were already alight, glinting and beaming in the early morning sunshine that fell through the ceiling to floor windows covering the walls of the house. There were a lot of people already in the kitchen, crowded around trays of unbaked cookies and tearing open packets of finger food from Iceland that needed to be cooked later on.

“Good morning, Dele,” Louise greets him. Dele had got used to Louise’s bone-crushing hugs. Now he allowed himself to fully melt in to her side and grip her with equally intense love. “Hungry?”

“No, not really,” Dele chuckles. “Your banquet yesterday was enough to last me a week. I’m dreading eating all of this tonight.”

“Same here, Dele.” Alex says, shooting him a wink and a faux salute from his position of organising mozzarella sticks onto a paper-lined tray. Louise seemed to have a little army working around the island and the kitchen counters, with a system in place so that everyone was doing something different to help with the cause of setting up for the party. Some people washed fine crockery over the sink while others preheated ovens and started organising drinks into mini-fridges. Louise stood over a batch of her homemade mulled cider, a recipe she had perfected and expressed deep pride over.

“How can I help?” Dele asks, keen to get his hands on something and stop thinking about the boy he left upstairs; the boy he could have continued snuggling for the entire day if his mind hadn’t put him in place and forced him to get downstairs.

“Fancy filling the ice trays? I bought some sweet Christmas tree shaped moulds from the shop the other day,” Louise says, walking towards Dele with jugs of water and a few ice cube trays in her arms. “Aren’t they precious?”

“They are, to be fair.” Dele smiles. He thanks Louise as she potters back to her cauldron of delight, leaving Dele to start carefully and meticulously filling the trays gap by gap.

“Why does Eric never get woken up to do this?” Elle asks, groaning from her side of the counter where she is busy hand-wrapping the pigs into their blankets. She looks mildly disgusted, hands covered in transparent gloves that Dele assumes Jeremy found for her in the garage. If Dele had discovered one thing during his short time at the Dier household it was that Eleanor had Jeremy wrapped around her little finger.

“Probably because he’s recovering.” Robin says.

“Recovering?” Dele and Elle simultaneously ask.

“Yeah. You know,” Robin continues. She glances at Dele with a look of pure evil combined with snarky humour, and Dele dreads the words that are about to come out of her lips. “Recovering from whatever he and lover-boy got up to last night.”

“Robin,” Louise scolds. “Inappropriate.”

Robin shrugs, beaming with gleeful delight as she sticks her tongue out at Dele. Dele blushes despite knowing that Robin’s assumptions are incorrect. Whatever she thought they were doing last night definitely wasn’t the reality, much to the disappointment of Dele’s deepest desires.

They were, in fact, having a pillow fight following a very heated game of Battleship. Eric had just removed Dele’s final ship and their conversation got a little argumentative. Eric threw the first pillow, though. A throw which Dele avoided so the pillow smashed into a lamp and tumbled to the floor instead. The noise didn’t stop the two of them from continuing with their childish antics as they descended into consistent swings at each other and sniggered whispers of laughter as to not wake up or disrupt anybody else in the house.

It’s Eric’s fault for having a creaky bed, Dele thinks, that half the family now believe they were shacking up last night. If only he hadn’t sunk Dele’s last ship and had let him win they wouldn’t be dealing with this issue which Dele knew would be following them for the entire day.

“Speak of the devil,” Alex chuckles. Dele looks over his shoulder, smile painting his face as he sees Eric sleepily potter into the kitchen. His eyes are barely open and his posture is crooked and poor, but there is a glint in his eyes that tells Dele he’s ready for the day ahead. “We were just talking about you.”

“Really?” Eric asks. He’s come up beside Dele, chin resting on Dele’s shoulder as he watches him fill the ice cube trays. “About what?”

“About-”

“ _Nothing_ ,” Dele hisses, throwing a pinch of water into Alex’s face. “Fancy being a babe and taking these trays to the freezer?”

Eric kisses him, nodding as he picks up the tray and heads toward the freezer. Dele blushes, staring at the counter to avoid eye contact as he reminds himself to calm down and be logical. Every time they interact on some intimate level Dele always lets his heart get the better of him as he starts to imagine what life could be if they went on pretending forever. If they never acknowledged that it was no longer December and kept accompanying each other on every adventure for the rest of their lives. Dele knew the chances of that happening were second to none, but a helpless romantic could dream.

“So does everyone know the timetable for the evening?” Louise asks.

“Timetable?” Eric repeats. He sits on one of the spinning chairs next to Dele, teasingly kicking him every time he completes a circle. Dele swats Eric’s legs away with a tea towel, smiling as Eric tugs on the other end to draw them close enough that he can kiss Dele’s cheek.

“Yes, Eric. Timetable,” Louise sighs. “Everyone is arriving for five. That means we have eight hours to sort all the food and the cards and the entertainment. There are more decorations that need to go up and the guest bedrooms need to be made up for the people who are staying for the night.”

“Guest bedrooms?” Dele mumbles to Eric. The house is large enough occupying all the Dier children, Dele can’t imagine where the guest bedrooms would be after he’d spent an entire day searching the corridors like Lucy from the Narnia series.

Eric nods. “There’s three.”

“So you two can sort the guest bedrooms,” Louise has just said to Alex and Eleanor. “Then it’s just… making the home as lovely as possible. Food will be served at seven, drinks throughout the evening. There’s going to be music and games and it’s just going to be a lovely occasion. And there’s gift giving at the end. Everyone on board?”

“How many people are coming?” Dele asks.

“About fifty.”

Well, Dele thinks. _Shit_.

❅

Dele turns side to side as he takes in his reflection in Eric’s bathroom mirror. He judges the way his trousers hover just above his ankles and how his shirt folds open at the collar. He can see his collarbones as he spins, jutting out just underneath his neck and seeming deeply contoured under the harsh, bright light shining down on him. Dele thinks his hair is too messy and clothes too tight. The sleeves of his blazer tug uncomfortably around his elbows as he bends his arm or lifts it to flatten the buttons on his shirt. He’s usually so fashion-forward, beaming in a room full of people and depending on the put-togetherness of his clothes to send him forwards into the night.

But now, here, at the prospect of facing fifty strangers who all expect him to be at his most professional and kind and loving to Eric: Dele thinks he looks shocking. Is this how theatre actors feel, Dele thinks? Right before opening night do they sit in their dressing rooms and fret over every little detail – from the laces on their shoes to the curve of their jaw? Dele supposes this is their grand opening night, him and Eric. Until now their show of romance had only been presented to small audiences. Eric’s friends weren’t a challenge at all, and despite the number of family members Dele had been introduced to over the course of the last few days he hadn’t felt intimidated or nervous. It was just… just like being in Eric’s apartment wasting their hours having meaningless conversations all over again.

But tonight would be completely different. Dele knows what family events are like, especially when one of the family members brings home a new person. Before, when his family attended these sorts of things, he saw the grilling first-hand. His cousin once brought her new boyfriend to a New Year’s celebration, and everyone had treated him with side-eyed apprehension and reluctance to believe his necessity at the event. He was treated as if he were temporary, like everyone in the room knew he wouldn’t come back the years after and, because of that, saw no importance in trying to get to know him.

So Dele, little Dele who doesn’t know anything about anyone coming in mere minutes, is a little nervous. Nervous and reluctant to go downstairs. He fidgets with the collar of his blazer again, forcing it flat and brushing some fluff to the ground. He’d picked a dark blue blazer, one that looks black until the light hits it in the right place to shimmer blue instead. It was very pretty, but now Dele thought it was too much.

“Del?” It’s Eric. His voice oozes concern as he comes to the bathroom door, knuckles gently drumming over the wood. “You okay?

“Yeah,” Dele lies. “Just… fixing my hair.”

Eric hums. “You know I don’t believe that,” he says. The door creaks open and Eric peeks at him, curiosity swimming in his eyes as he shoulders into the bathroom and stands beside Dele. He looks very good, clothes crisp and pressed perfectly to his figure. He looks sleek, as always, and Dele knows he’s going to steal the entire show. “You’ve been in here for about thirty minutes and have turned the tap on and off far too many times to just be fixing your hair.”

Dele stays quiet. He turns to lean against the sink, Eric’s small interrogation eventually eliciting a sigh from Dele. “I’m panicking.”

“Kind of obvious. The back of your hand is red, and because you always scratch your hand when you’re nervous I can sort of tell that’s what you’ve been doing in here.” Dele looks down at his hand; he was not aware he scratched his skin when nervous, and shoves them in his back pocket to avoid the bewilderment he felt at Eric noticing before he did.

“This is just… _the_ event, isn’t it? Like the big family party and everything. There’s fifty people coming, all who don’t know anything about me. I’m just… completely certain they’ll see right through me and think I’m the shittiest person in the world,” Dele rambles. “In that, like. When they talk about family things that I have no idea about it’ll come off as me being disinterested in your family life rather than me just not knowing.”

“Hmm,” Eric says. “That’s not the main thing, is it?”

“Stop knowing me so well,” Dele mutters. “But no, it’s not. I don’t like lying to all these people. I hate it. I don’t know these people, I don’t even know your parents and siblings. But I’m here in this hugely orchestrated lie and it makes me feel ill knowing I’m building up their hopes to only crush them in two weeks.”

“They won’t care-”

“Do you know why family members always ask about partners and the future? It’s because they care and they want the best for you, Eric. This all seemed like such a good idea until I got here and realised how nice your family are,” Dele interrupts. “Have you seen how many photos your mum has been taking? She’s going to have an entire Christmas worth of photos wasted because I’m in all of them. Me being here is ruining this holiday for them. Not now, but later. I’m going to be the awkward ex that makes everything miserable and makes this Christmas hard to talk about. Your mum will have all these photos she can’t use because Eric’s ex is in all of them and we can’t have him in these public photos after he hurt Eric and broke up with him.”

“I think you’re just very overwhelmed and are taking it out on us.” Eric says.

“What _us_?” Dele asks. “There isn’t one. It’s complete shit, isn’t it? How are you so happy lying to these people?”

“If it stops me from being the centre of the pity party, I don’t mind.” Eric shrugs.

“It’s not a pity party Eric,” Dele groans. He wants to show more agitation but can’t for the life of him be annoyed at Eric. His head tells him to snap but his heart refuses it; and, _damn_ , he likes this kid way too much. “It’s them caring about your life. I’d do anything to have my mum or my dad text me asking how my love life is going. I want them to pester me, because it shows that they give a damn. Do you notice how I have no family Christmas celebrations? It’s because sometimes families fall apart and people end up without anyone to care for them. I don’t understand how you’re so calm with manipulating your family when all they want is for you to be happy.”

“Are you really arguing with me right now, Del?” Eric asks. “Like, really? Can we not continue this later? This is sort of the big event and I can’t be dealing with an argument right now.”

“Surely this is the most authentic thing we’ve done the last few weeks.” Dele says. He pushes himself off the sink and rubs his hands over his face. He looks more of a mess now, the emotion dancing in his eyes and showing in the way his lips tug down into a defeated frown.

“What do you mean?”

“A good old lover’s quarrel. The staple of every relationship.” Dele says before slipping out the bathroom and trotting downstairs. It’s dark, the lights dimmed so only the Christmas decorations illuminate the colossal house, and Dele is glad for that as it means he can blend in and nobody will notice the sadness blooming in his eyes. Perhaps the evening will be incredibly awkward now as the two of them pretend as if they hadn’t just bickered in the bathroom over their completely false and scripted relationship, but it would also give Dele a chance to break off and spend time by himself. Now he had no obligation to hang off Eric’s side like a clingy little puppy he’d be able to talk to the other Dier siblings and fill his evening with as much warm alcohol and bubbly laughter as he wanted.

“Dele,” Louise smiles. She’s greeting a band of women at the door, all holding bags of presents and wrapped up like ones themselves with their extravagant faux-fur scarves wound up high around their necks. “These are my friends.”

“Hi,” Dele says, pulling a smile onto his face as he steps down the rest of the stairs over to the group of women. “It’s nice to meet you all. Let me help you with the bags.” He says, taking all the handles of the gift bags from the ladies to leave them free to take off their coats.

“Oh, you’re lush, aren’t you?” One of them says. She smells dusty, like expensive perfume that had been resting untouched on a dressing table for a few months waiting for a big event to debut at. “I’m Lorraine.”

“Lorraine. It’s nice to meet you,” Dele leans in to kiss her cheek, making a conscious effort to subtly smell her again. “Are you wearing Touch? By Burberry?” He asks.

Lorraine looks taken aback. “I am, yes. How do you know?”

“He works at the perfume counter in Selfridges. He knows all about the brands and scents. Said he would send me some small sample bottles when he gets back,” Louise gushes. “He’s here with Eric.”

The women all _ooh_ and _aah_ at the last sentence, looking at Dele with smiling eyes and suggestive grins. Dele tries not to blush as much as he tries not to break down and confess his mendacity right there and then. “I’m going to put these bags on the gift giving table. I’ll go pour some champagne for you ladies, too.”

Dele ushers himself off after that, struggling to find space on the designated present table for all the bags. Dele doesn’t even think there are that many people there yet and can’t understand why there are so many bags there, and then-

“Wait,” Dele interrupts his own internal monologue as a tag catches his attention. After setting the bags down he twists the tag around to look at it properly. “Dearest Dele.”

“Wishing you a wonderful Christmas,” Robin speaks. “And a lovely New Year. Don’t be a stranger. All our love, Robin and Zoe.”

“What’s this for?” Dele asks, smiling at Robin as she curls into Dele’s side. “Thought family gift giving actually happens on Christmas?”

“It does. And this isn’t your main present,” Robin says. “Just thought it’d be nice for you to open something along with everyone else tonight, so they know you’re here for keeps.”

“God, Robin,” Dele says. He squeezes her; she doesn’t know the meaning behind the affection or why it means so much to Dele, just takes it in her stride and reciprocates the level of love. “You’re so great.”

“So are you.”

Dele presses a kiss to her cheek, leaving her with a little more love as he detaches himself and turns to go to the kitchen. He remembers his promise of pouring Louise’s friends some champagne in a bid to keep him on his feet so he didn’t have time to stand still and worry about what would happen when Eric descended from the staircase and joined in with the festivities.

He pours the champagne almost perfectly, resting the flutes on a small black tray as he carried them out to where Louise and the rest of the women stood, still in the foyer gossiping over recent village events. They all beam at Dele as he hands them their drinks, letting them pinch his cheeks and shower him with compliments over his kindness before scuttling back to the kitchen.

It is cool in the kitchen, the conservatory doors open ever so slightly to let the wintry breeze filter in to the room. Dele rests against the counter, pouring himself a piping hot cup of mulled cider when he finally sees Eric appear at the foot of the stairs. He deals with the same fate Dele did, being cornered into the group of Louise and her friends to be petted and cooed at for a few minutes. At one point they all turn to look at Dele, who tries desperately to make it seem like he wasn’t nosing in to their conversation, and Dele dreads to wonder what the conversation had become and what Eric had said in response.

Dele drags his fingertips over the kitchen counter, outlining the marble pattern that spreads the entirety of the surface. It’s a soothing motion, one that brings him joy and tranquillity among all the heavy emotions hanging over his shoulders in the form of an invisible raincloud.

“Dele, right?” Dele turns at the sound of someone’s voice, and is greeted by a man just his height, with slightly coiffed hair and a beer bottle dangling between his fingertips.

“Yeah,” Dele smiles. He doesn’t know who this man is, and can’t place him in the extensive family photos he’d been shown the last few days. “I’m Dele. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Harry,” the man says, holding his bottle up to cheers Dele. “I used to go to school with Eric.”

“Oh,” Dele says. The name Harry rings a bell, probably because there are multiple Eric has mentioned in the past. “I’m sorry if this sounds kind of impolite. Which Harry are you? There are multiple I’ve been told about.”

Harry cracks a smile. “Kane,” he answers. “I know there’s a Maguire who he met at Scouts as a kid and a Winks he knew at his first job. But I’m good old Kane.”

“Harry Kane,” Dele repeats. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you from Eleanor,” Harry continues. He has a very wonderful voice, one that Dele would expect a leader to have. He sounds very determined and exact in his words, as if he knew exactly where this conversation was going and would make sure it never became forced or awkward. Harry almost had a safe aura about him, like Dele could trust him with anything and he would be right at the front with advice and comfort. “I was a little surprised to hear why you came along.”

“A lot of people are saying that to me,” Dele smiles. “Does he not have a good track run with relationships or something?”

Harry pauses. “I mean… not really? He’s just picky, I guess. He doesn’t bring many people back here and most of them he does don’t get along with his family. I thought he’d just give up and never bring someone home unless he was engaged to them.”

“Right,” Dele replies. That’s a little intimidating, Dele thinks, and makes him feel a lot worse about his situation than normal. “Big shoes to fill.”

“You’re doing a good job, I’m sure,” Harry smiles. And, just like that, Dele feels calm again. He likes this guy, a lot. “His family have been singing your praises since I arrived about twenty minutes ago.”

“Harry!”

 _Oh_. That’s Eric.

Harry turns to face Eric with a smile and they lovingly embrace, patting each other’s backs in the typical guy-best-friend way. Dele looks to the floor, both not wanting to invade on their moment and also wanting to disappear from the room. He doesn’t regret what happened upstairs at all, he just really doesn’t want to pretend to be in love with Eric while also pretending they hadn’t just had a domestic in the en suite.

“It’s so good to see you again. You haven’t been back in so long.” Harry says, though his response almost sounds scolding.

“I know, I know. I’ve just been busy,” Eric says. Dele doesn’t know if that’s the truth or not. “Are the rest of your family here? Kate? The girls?”

“Yeah, they are. I think Alex was playing with some balloons which took their attention long enough for me to come here and meet this guy,” Harry draws Dele back in to the conversation. Dele painfully and reluctantly looks back up, meeting Eric’s eyes despite wishing he wouldn’t. He can see right through the smile on his face and detect the hurt in his eyes. Hurt which doesn’t make sense to Dele since he hadn’t even done anything wrong. He’d been honest about his feelings and Eric had wanted to brush them off. If anything, _Dele_ should be the one with hurt in his eyes. “He’s great, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Eric says. Dele can’t tell if he’s lying. He takes a sip of his mulled cider to burn away in his stomach as a distraction from the burning gaze of Eric.

“So,” Harry continues. He clearly can’t detect the awkwardness in the room. _Lucky him_. “How did you two meet?”

“Bonfire night.” Dele says.

“I was lighting sparklers.” Eric adds.

Dele pauses. He knows the last line of their script they’d worked out drunkenly one night, one they’d used over and over at different events so far. “Love at first sight.” He lies.

“That’s cute,” Harry smiles, peeking over his shoulder at the sound of a commotion from the lounge. “That sounded like a daughter falling over. I’ll catch you two later.”

And then they were alone. Not totally alone, of course. There were other party-goers filling up their drinks and talking quietly in the corners while bathing in the cool of the kitchen. But in that moment, hovering over the bowl of mulled cider and trays of fresh gingerbread cookies, they were alone. Dele avoids Eric’s gaze for a short while, busying himself with the belt loops on his trousers and the steam billowing up from his drink.

“Drink?” Dele asks.

“Seriously?” Eric chuckles. He’s laughing, which is good. “You bite my head off and spit me in the sink and offer me some alcohol instead of apologising?”

“I have nothing to apologise for,” Dele holds his ground. He pours Eric a cup anyway, and he takes it regardless of his previous answer. “I don’t think I did anything wrong.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay,” Eric pauses. “They’re playing music in the lounge. Do you want to dance?”

Dele tilts his head to the side. “You want to pretend right now?”

“It’s what we both came here to do.”

Dele nods eventually, keeping a firm grip on his drink as they weave between the groups of people to find the source of the festive music. It’s a jingly tune Dele doesn’t recognise, one that clearly wasn’t added to the Selfridges playlist, but Dele dances to it anyway. They can’t hold each other without letting go of their drinks, drinks the both of them clearly want to depend on to get them through the night.

“I love this song,” Eric murmurs. They’re standing a lot closer now and Dele can smell the alcohol beginning to lace itself in Eric’s breath. “The lyrics are just like us.”

“How?”

Eric hums, saying nothing as the song progresses. Dele begins to think he’s ignoring him and is just deciding to not answer his question when his lips finally part. “It’s just like make believe,” Eric sings. “Each night is New Year’s Eve. Each day is Christmas day, you make me feel this way.”

Dele ignores the connotations of the lyrics except for the first line. “It’s just like make believe,” he repeats. Eric is leaning down now, closing the space between them even more. “That’s us summed right up isn’t it?”

Eric doesn’t reply, just goes down to kiss him. Dele even leans up to meet him halfway, but pauses as something – or someone – coming up behind Eric stops him. “What the-”

“Dele?”

“Oh, my god.” Dele mumbles.

“Dele! What are you doing here?” The voice asks another question, beaming as they come right up to Eric and Dele and glance between the two.

Eric looks confused. “Who is-?”

“Sarah,” Dele says. He steps away from Eric immediately, putting considerable distance between them. He avoids Eric’s eyes, not wanting to see the confusion and pain right now: he has more pressing issues to deal with. “What are you doing here?”

Sarah smiles. “I’m a friend of Louise and Jeremy’s. Well, sort of. I’m married to Jeremy’s co-worker,” she says. “You still haven’t answered my question, love.”

“Oh, right,” Dele says. Of course, he thinks. Of _course_ his godmother, who he doesn’t speak to anymore after a series of family drama that left them having no contact, would show up here of all places. “I’m friends with Eric. He works near me. We’ve been friends for a while and he invited me to the party.”

“Really? Your mum said she-”

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I really need to use the bathroom.” Dele says. He looks defiantly at Eric before he leaves, hoping he passes on the message that he expects Eric to follow him upstairs.

He’s sat down, head leaning against the wall when Eric arrives a few minutes later, shouldering his way in after gently knocking to alert Dele of his presence. As he sees Dele he sinks to the ground, too, locking the door to keep it intimate as the two of them prepare to delve into a very meaty conversation.

“So,” Eric starts. “Who is she?”

Dele swallows thickly, downing the rest of his drink. “My godmother,” he murmurs. “My mum’s best friend and a really close family friend. She sees my mum every weekend. Or, well, she used to. I’m not really up-to-date with family affairs anymore.”

“Is that why you dashed after she mentioned your… you know?”

Dele nods. “My family is… very confusing. I don’t speak to any of them anymore. I have people in my life who I consider family, even though we aren’t related, but the others… it’s a long story that I don’t really care for anymore.”

“Why does it matter that she’s here?” Eric asks.

“Because she’s going to tell my mum she’s spoken to me and then my mum will try and get in contact again,” Dele explains. “Is none of this obvious to you?”

“Okay, sorry,” Eric says, slow and cautious. “Why did you say we were friends?”

“Because we are.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Are you asking me to lie to my godmother?” Dele asks.

Eric shrugs. “What’s she going to do?”

“Tell my mother? Try and get involved in my life again? I can’t lie to her.” Dele says.

“Why does it matter if you lie to her?”

“She’s my family, Eric. I’m not going to lie to them. I know this may not be a big deal to you, since you’ve orchestrated this whole fucking thing, but I don’t like being dishonest to people. The minute I involve Sarah in this lie, this whole thing gets more complicated. If I tell her, she will tell my mum who will tell other people in my family and some of them still have vague contact with me. I’m not… _out_ to my family, Eric. I’m not involving them in this” Dele explains.

“I don’t understand how I’m supposed to help if you don’t tell me these complicated details.” Eric murmurs.

“They’re none of your business, Eric,” Dele says. “Come Boxing Day we’re going home and I’m going out of your life. I’m not hanging my dirty laundry out for you to know when we’re never going to speak to each other again. Like… are you not thinking what the consequences of this are going to be? You’re not just lying to your family. You’re lying to the friends of your parents and Eleanor’s school friends and anyone who is involved in this family.”

“It’s not that serious, Del,” Eric reasons. “Our relationship has only been going for two months. I’m pretty sure they know it isn’t that legitimate.”

“Tell that to Robin who thinks I’m here for keeps and to your mum who keeps inviting me places and buying me things and telling all her friends how great it’s going to be having me around every couple of months. Tell it to your friend, Harry, who thinks this is rock solid because you never bring people home,” Dele says. He’s speaking a lot, he knows, but he just has a lot of feelings he wants to get out. “I don’t think you understand why everyone here thinks you bringing me back is such a big deal. They think you only do it when you’re really, really into someone.”

Eric pauses. “What if I am?”

“What?” Dele asks. His little heart can’t take the ambiguity right now; he has an unwanted ghost from his past floating around outside bursting at the seams with questions about where and when and why and how.

“What if I am _really_ into someone?” Eric continues.

Dele closes his eyes, letting his head fall back onto the tiled wall. “I’m not here for your silly riddl-”

Then there are lips on his and Dele can’t move. He’s not being restrained or held down: he is just so surprised his body freezes. He chances opening his eyes for a second and… yep. That’s Eric. Eric who moved quickly across the bathroom to kiss him, one hand holding him up and the other resting on Dele’s chest. Dele knows Eric can feel his heartbeat, in particular how much faster it is accelerating with every second that passes.

They’ve kissed before, of course. But this one is so different. They’re in a bathroom, the same bathroom they bickered in not even an hour earlier. Dele’s body is cold from the tiles but his face is warm from the blush blooming over his cheeks. He opens his eyes again to double check that Eric is definitely there.

He is.

❅

They don’t talk about the kiss for the rest of the evening. Things are a lot less awkward and Dele doesn’t mind lingering around Eric from time to time, but he feels a lot more cautious about what they’re doing. Every time he sees Sarah in the distance he peels away, excusing himself to fill up his drink or go and get some fresh air. He managed to avoid her for most of the evening, slinking away before she had a chance to see him or edging his way out of the conversation. But, as he walks into the kitchen to get Eric a fresh beer, there she is.

“Dele, my love,” Sarah smiles, beckoning him over to where she sits in the conservatory. Why she’s sat in the cold, blanket pulled over her lap and glass of white wine balanced between her fingers, Dele doesn’t understand. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all night. Are you avoiding me?”

“Of course not. I’m just, you know. Getting along with the youth.” Dele chuckles.

“The youth,” Sarah repeats. “That reminds me… I was talking to Louise earlier and she said you are here with Eric.”

Dele drags his eyebrows together. “I told you that? I’m here because I’m a family friend.”

“No, no,” Sarah swats his response off. “She said you were here _with_ him.”

Dele freezes. This is exactly what he was worried about. “What? Why would she say that?” He chuckles nervously. He suddenly wishes he picked up a drink for himself on the way in. “That’s not… that’s not true.”

“Why would Louise lie to me?”

“Why would _I_ lie to you?” Dele retorts.

Sarah sips at her wine. “Perhaps for the same reason you stopped talking to everybody,” she says, alcohol-infused words hanging uncomfortably in the air. Dele’s heart falls fast, sinking to the pit of his stomach. “I’m sure you can understand why I believe Louise more after you told your family you were travelling and didn’t know when you were coming back home, only to return months later, not making contact with any of us again.”

“It’s my life, Sarah,” Dele says. He doesn’t want to start yelling at someone else this evening, especially not someone who used to be very important to him. “You can believe who you want to believe. I’m telling you that I’m here as Eric’s friend so if you want-”

“Dele!” Louise appears. _Why_. “Sarah? What are you both doing in here?”

“Just catching up. Godmother to godson.” Sarah smiles.

“I can’t believe you two know each other,” Louise beams as she sits beside Sarah, clinking their wine glasses together. “Also, Del. Eric is looking for you.”

“I know. It’s a small world, isn’t it? My Dele and your Eric.” Sarah chuckles.

“They make the sweetest couple, don’t they?” Louise is alight with pride. Dele wants to sink into the ground and disappear.

“Couple?” Sarah looks to Dele again.

“Friends,” Dele replies. Louise now looks confused, eyebrows dragged together and frown painting her beautiful face. “Eric and I are friends, Sarah.”

“What?” Louise asks. “But you’ve been here for ages as his boyfriend. What’s this about friends?”

“You’ve been here for a while?” Sarah asks; it sounds more like a demand than a simple question, and Dele wishes he could be anywhere else other than here.

“I…” Dele starts. He’s panicking; his stomach is twisting and he suddenly can’t breathe, every single inhale becoming a sharp snatch at the back of his throat. “I can’t have this conversation right now. I… I can’t be here right now. I shouldn’t be here right now.”

Dele stands up, accidentally knocking Sarah’s wine glass over as he rises. The wine falls all over her dress, dripping through the material to wet the floor. Sarah is angry, while Louise just looks confused.

“Dele, honey,” Louise coaxes Dele to sit back down, voice oozing love and consideration. “What’s going on, love? What’s this talk about friends?”

“What’s this talk about boyfriends, more importantly?” Sarah continues her demands despite drowning in wine. Dele looks between these two women, one who he is growing to love and one who he loved in the past, and he can’t think of any place he’s wanted to be less.

“I can’t do this,” Dele repeats. He edges his way out of the conservatory, both Louise and Sarah hot on his heels as they repeat their questions. Sarah’s voice contorts into one of betrayal while Louise sounds desperate: desperate for Dele to stay and explain and to calm down. Their confrontation draws attention as Dele moves closer to the front door, grabbing a random coat from the hangers on the wall. He sees Eric and Alex and Robin all swarm in from the lounge. “I’m really, _really_ sorry.” Dele doesn’t know who he’s apologising to, just that his words float uneasily in the air as he zips the coat up.

“Dele…” Alex and Robin say simultaneously. They glance between the triangle of people, all showing different expressions and postures. Dele is slumped, full of resignation and sorrow and pain. Louise looks as though she wants to wrap Dele in a blanket and get him to gush up all the restricted feelings about family and mendacity that he’s been retaining for a while whereas Sarah… Sarah looks ready to pick up her phone and call Dele’s family right at that second.

“Del, babe,” it’s Eric now. He’s right in front of Dele even though Dele’s eyesight is blurred. He doesn’t know whether he’s about to faint or if he’s suddenly crying, just that there are two Eric’s and his voice is echoing around Dele’s busy, busy mind. Eric feels infinite miles away despite being stood right in front of Dele; close enough to touch but, somehow, still not close _enough_. “What’s going on?”

“Is that your friend, Eric?” Sarah asks. There is slight malice in her voice now, almost like she is determined to taunt Dele for what he did to her and her family in the past. “The one you’re not dating?”

“Not dating?” Robin says. She looks at Dele. Everyone is looking at Dele, and Dele can’t breathe. “Of course they’re dating. They’ve been dating for two months.”

“Dele.” Eric says.

“Then why did he tell me they’re just family friends?” Sarah poses the question to the room.

“Dele.” Eric repeats.

Dele can’t see. He can’t breathe. He can’t form any coherent sentences.

He gazes around the room and takes in the confused faces of everyone, most importantly the Dier family. Eleanor in the background, confusion mixed with concern. Alex edging closer, Robin staring at Sarah with anger blossoming in her eyes. Louise is crying, tears of bewilderment streaking down her cheeks and ruining her makeup. Dele finally looks at Eric.

Eric who knows what has happened. Dele can see in his eyes and hear in his desperate voice that Eric wants to help. Wants to whisk him away from this situation and make everything better. Dele wishes they could be back in that damned bathroom, not talking about anything but just being with each other.

“Dele.” Eric says, one final time.

“I can’t do this.” Dele replies.

Then he’s out the door.

Dele know it is obscenely dramatic. The door hangs open as Dele stalks down the driveway into the late night snow storm, the wind whipping his cheeks and hurting his eyes as he walks. His footprints taint the recently settled blanket of snow, uneven steps that show his confusion and inability to see straight through the overwhelming sadness crushing his soul at that moment. Behind him Dele can hear Eric shouting into the night sky, accompanied by a messy harmony of other voices telling Eric to come back inside and put his car keys down.

Dele doesn’t turn back. He doesn’t know where he’s going, just that it’s _away_. Away into the darkness in a place he doesn’t know. His phone is in the house and the money he has is loose change and a few notes. Dele is alone, he is winding down a path into complete dark nothingness but, somehow, it feels more welcoming than the house he just left.

What will happen in the coming days, Dele doesn’t know. There’s just one thing he’s certain of: meeting Eric Dier was the worst thing that could have ever happened to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter to go!! see you on the 22nd to wrap this tale up :-)  
> tumblr: johnstnes


	4. Chapter 4

Dele’s tongue burns as he sips on a too-hot cup of coffee he bought from a random coffee shop along the high street. It’s been three days since his emphatic departure from the Dier household, stumbling through the snow and feeling like a traveller lost at the North Pole. He was lucky in the fact the coat he’d pulled from the hanger had been Eric’s coat, loaded with his wallet and a few extra notes, so he had been able to book into a hotel about a twenty minute walk from the house to stay in. Dele felt bad about using Eric’s money and charging things to his card, but he knew he would pay him back the minute he gathered enough courage and energy to return to the house. And, anyway, if Eric checked his bank account at least he would see that Dele was still alive and hadn’t frozen into an ice sculpture somewhere in his hometown.

It had been a melancholy three days, tossing the events of the entire month around his mind and reflecting over how complicated things had become recently. Dele often allowed himself to remember the incident between him and Eric in the bathroom, and their subtle yet honest declarations about perhaps being really into each other. But sometimes that thought got a little painful and he had to quickly wipe the slate clean and think of something to stop him feeling overwhelmed.

Which is why he was here: sipping on a cheap and scorching coffee while sitting on a bench in the middle of one of the parks Cheltenham boasted. The ground was still painted white, little footprints decorating the surface sometimes as families came and went to play about and then go warm up inside. An army of snowmen stood in the centre of the park, all with lopsided noses and different shaped arms protruding out into the world. Each one had a personality of its own, either smiling or looking to the sky, and every single one had a scarf wrapped around their necks. Some of the noses had been stolen, and Dele could see a bird standing on one of the carrots to chip off little bites to eat.

Dele was cold – utterly _freezing_ – but he had nowhere else to go at that moment. His reservation at the hotel ended this morning and he refused to spend anymore of Eric’s money, so he just wandered about in an attempt to build the confidence to return to the Dier house where he would inevitably pack up all his belongings and figure out a bus route home. The fact Eric hadn’t yet cancelled his card despite the money draining from it as Dele bought food to eat and a pair of gloves to protect his fingers from the icy breeze made Dele think Eric wanted him to be okay. It’s as if they were having some wordless conversation about Dele taking all the time he needs before coming back to reality, like Eric was silently egging Dele on and giving him support without even being there.

He just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t face the humiliation of being there and admitting that he and Eric had orchestrated some intense lie about this relationship to save face. Replaying the lie over in his head made Dele realise how childish it was and how it was never going to work out. How either of them thought they’d get through the month without something going wrong was beyond Dele, but he guessed it summed both of them up pretty well: young, foolish and would do anything for some companionship during the loneliest time of the year.

Dele felt bad for leaving Eric all alone to deal with the consequences of the confrontation. He held a little hate in his heart for himself as he thought of Eric facing everyone alone and either admitting the truth or lying to them all even more in a bid to minimalize the damage of the argument. Dele wondered what Eric had said to soothe the tension in the room, what sentences he had conjured to relax everyone and to stop the evening from being a complete disaster.

“Dele?”

Dele looks up at the sound of a familiar yet unexpected voice. Alex. His eyes soften at the sight of Dele on the bench and Dele can see the weight lifting off his shoulders as he brushes some snow to the ground and sits down himself. Alex looks tired and cold and all the negative emotions bundled into one, but still looks a little calmer now he has his sights set on Dele.

Dele doesn’t know what to say. Can’t form words in his mind that would express the guilt he felt about what happened and the sorrow he had about his exit and the hurt he must’ve caused Eric to feel.

“How is he?” Is Dele’s first question. All he cares about it Eric. How Eric is, what he’s been saying. If he’s willing to let Dele back into his life after ruining everything they’d spent a month perfecting.

“Worried,” Alex says. His voice is croaky, like what he would sound like following the aftermath of an argument or nights of no sleep. Like he hadn’t stopped speaking or thinking or trying for a very long time. “But he knew you had his card which calmed him a little. Then he saw a payment for a hotel come through and knew you were okay.”

“Why didn’t you come to the hotel, then? If you knew where I was staying?” Dele asks.

“Because we figured you needed some space,” Alex replies. “You looked really, really sad that evening, Dele. Like… beyond sad. And betrayed, and nervous. It was written all over your face. None of us were going to come and force you to explain yourself after that. We were nervous all evening and wondered whether we should look for you, but the minute you checked into that hotel it was okay.”

“What happened to... her?”

“Mum asked her to leave. Said that she was ruining the evening and that it would be better if she didn’t stay for the rest. After she was gone everything died down mostly but Eric wouldn’t stop pacing.” Alex explains.

Dele nods. He scoots a little closer to Alex on the bench, resting his head on his snow-covered shoulder despite the damp that soaks into his hair. “I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” Alex asks. “Your godmother, or someone irrelevant in your family, came and tried to ruin the evening just because you hadn’t told them you were gay. She outed you, basically. I know you’re _out_ to us, but you weren’t to her.”

“Oh.” Dele exhales. So the family still don’t know. Eric must’ve conjured up an extensive reason that vilified Sarah rather than explaining the embarrassment that their relationship was and always had been. At least Dele could walk back into the house now without that air of awkwardness hanging over him.

“Mum is really sad that you left,” Alex continues. He pauses for a moment as the two of them watch a family sledging in the distance, their calls and screams of joy catching their attention. “That someone came in and made you feel unwelcome in our house. She hates it. She’s worried your Christmas with us is tainted because of what happened and that you’re never going to want to come back again.”

Dele ignores the last statement, not wanting to think about never returning to the Dier household. “Your mum is too good for this world, isn’t she?”

“Definitely.”

Dele clears his throat as he sips from his drink, letting his breathing sync with the crunching footsteps of a cat that walks in front of them. Dele wonders if his paws were freezing and why he was out and about instead of being inside a warm home curled in front of a fireplace. Much like himself, really. Drifting and absent without a stable place to be. “Does Eric still want to talk to me?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Alex chuckles.

“Because I ruined the Christmas party and stormed out like a toddler having a strop?” Dele says.

Alex smiles, laughter bubbling from between his lips as he gently pats Dele’s knee. “You’re so cute,” he says. “Of course he wants to talk to you. He’s wanted to talk to you from the moment you left, Del. I’ve really never seen him be so interested in someone before. He went a few weeks not talking to his ex when he went on a work trip to America but couldn’t go ten minutes not seeing you. He’ll probably pass out once I bring you back.”

“You’re taking me back?”

“You do ask some very funny questions,” Alex smiles. “You’re family, Dele. Everyone is there waiting for you to come back. It’s really not the same without you. Eric is so sad and uninterested in everything, mum keeps commenting on how wrong it is not having you there making breakfast with her in the morning. Even Robin says it feels a little less festive. You’re an extension of the Dier family, even if you don’t want to be or don’t believe it.”

“I do want to be,” Dele says. “I really, really do.”

Alex nods. They sit in silence for a little while after that, Dele aimlessly sipping on his drink while Alex tugs his phone out his pocket. Dele assumes he’s texting his family to say he’s found Dele and to stop the wild goose chase around Cheltenham. Alex doesn’t rush Dele, doesn’t ask him to hurry up drinking and finish what he’s doing so they can head back to the house. He just watches cautiously from the corner of his eyes, observing Dele to make sure that he is happy and not about to dash off again.

“I really appreciate what you and your family are doing for me,” Dele finally says. “You know… sticking up for me and looking after me and welcoming me like one of your own when I’m not. I don’t have… like. Yeah. I don’t have that in my life. So this is all really overwhelming, but I appreciate it even more because of that.”

Alex’s face cracks into a pleased and ecstatic smile. He pulls Dele into a bone-crushing hug, squeezing all the sadness of out him and replacing it with love and comfort instead. “You don’t need to thank us for loving you, Dele,” Alex says. “Now, are you ready to head back?”

Head back. See Eric. _Eric_.

“More than I’ll ever be.”

❅

There are not many cars on the driveway when Dele and Alex get back to the house. The snow is cleared off the slabs and some of the surrounding road, tire tracks imprinting in the thin layers of ice and slush that remain. There is only one car remaining, and Dele goes to inquire but Alex beats him to it.

“Looking for you,” he says. “Mum and dad headed to the hotel to see if you were there. Everyone else is dotting around stores and the high street. The only one here, just in case you decided to come back by yourself, is-”

“Eric.” Dele finishes.

Alex nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Well. I think I’m going to sit in here for a few minutes and make sure that everyone knows you’ve returned. Why don’t you head inside and get a cup of tea?”

Dele smiles. He understands the implications of Alex’s statement. He leans over to kiss his cheek, murmuring a small thanks before slipping out the car and edging up towards to the door. It’s open as Dele touches the handle, the warmth of the house flooding his senses and melting the thin layer of ice that seemed to have settled over his body.

The house is messier than normal, remnants of the party still scattered over the floor in the form of glitter and leftover coats and even a sweet wrapper tucked on the windowsill. But it still feels homely, the aura of the family simmering in the air and woven in the creases on the sofa and the initial-printed mugs on the kitchen counter.

Dele can hear scuttling about in the kitchen, sounds of mugs hitting the counters and the distant boiling of the kettle cutting through the otherwise silent house. Dele steps to the boundary between the foyer and the kitchen, hanging over the step underneath the open archway. Eric hasn’t seen him yet, still slumped over the counter and staring helplessly out of the window. Dele looks around, taking in his unchanged surroundings. There are plates on the table from the big family breakfast, one empty and untouched one in the mix, with the chairs scattered everywhere. Fresh flowers sit in vases on different counters in the room and Dele is stood underneath the bundle of mistletoe that had been there since he arrived.

Dele clears his throat.

Eric turns and looks at him. His eyes are red and face painted the picture of exhaustion and worry, with hints of betrayal laced in his eyes and tugging his lips down. That all fades though as he sees Dele. Relief floods his cheeks and his eyes seem to brighten at the sight of Dele, face speaking all the words of gratefulness and pleasure that his lips can’t quite articulate.

“Hi.” Dele says, voice quiet and hesitant as he speaks. He doesn’t know what to do, whether to cross the length of the kitchen and engulf Eric in an all-consuming hug or to let Eric come to him first. He’s never dealt with things like this, unspoken feelings blossoming further and making everything more complex than necessary. Dele just doesn’t want to say anything to make this worse.

“Dele.” Eric murmurs. He walks towards Dele, slippers scuffing the floor as he closes the gap between the two of them. He climbs the step, staring at Dele as if he can’t quite believe that he’s stood there.

“I’ve missed you a lot.” Dele says. He’s blissfully aware of how soft his voice is, how there is no angst or edge woven into his words. Eric seems to soften as he speaks, fingers coming up to his cheek to wipe away some of the snowflakes that had dropped there on his walk from the car to the house.

Eric smiles, small but present and very real. “I thought you were gone forever. That you’d completely left everything here. Like, me and my family and us and your clothes. I haven’t been able to sleep at all,” Eric says. Or, well, rambles. Everything he’s thought of or felt the last few days is now seeping into his words, falling from his mouth and wrapping Dele in a blanket of warmth and love. “I was so, _so_ worried about you. I thought you were gone, Del. I thought I had you in my hands and that you’d just slipped right through. We were so close to _getting_ there and I thought-”

“Eric.” Dele interrupts.

Eric stops in his tracks, breath caught in his throat. “What?”

They both look up at the mistletoe hanging above them, almost taunting and teasing them to just get on with it and do what they’ve both wanted for the longest time.

“Please kiss me.”

Eric smiles. And then he kisses Dele.

❅

They sit on opposite sides of the sofa in the lounge as they talk everything through. Eric makes the two of them hot chocolate, loading Dele’s with extra cream and chocolate shavings to make up for all the days he had to spend drinking hotel instant coffee. Dele pulls a blanket over them, taking gentle sips of his drink as he watches Eric flick through the TV channels to find something festive for them to have idly playing in the background.

“So you haven’t told them?” Dele asks.

“No,” Eric murmurs. “I managed to get around it. After you left Sarah kept going on about the whole friend thing. I managed to get everyone in the dining room to talk it through. I said you weren’t out to your family which is why you were telling her we were friends. My parents believed that and everyone got really annoyed at her. I did the best I could, Del. I can’t promise that she didn’t go back and tell your family, but I just tried.”

“No, no. Don’t talk like that,” Dele scolds. “Don’t say you _just_ tried your best. You did perfectly. I just… I left you to deal with it yourself. That was awful of me, and I’m really sorry. I don’t care what my… family think or know. I only care about what goes on here, with you. And you fixed it for us.”

Eric smiles. “For you.”

“What?”

“For you,” Eric repeats. “It’s all for you. Always for you.”

Dele blushes and suddenly feels as if this is exactly where he should be. Like he’s finally come home, found his place in the world and never wants to go anywhere else ever again. “Why did you ask me, Eric?”

“Ask you what?”

“To do this with you,” Dele gestures between the two of them. Eric catches his hand at one point and laces their fingers together, resting their now joined palms on top of the blanket. “Why did you ask me in the middle of Pret when there are tonnes of other, better people to do it with?”

“Honestly?” Eric starts. “I properly fancied you. I mean, you were dressed amazingly and smelt like a fucking babe, which was great. But when you were being really sarcastic with me and were just doing your job I swear I’ve never seen a more beautiful person in my life. And I guess I just panicked? And instead of asking you out like a normal person got us into this mess.”

“But… why did you panic? Did you think I’d say no?” Dele asks. He lifts their joined hands, pressing a kiss to the back of Eric’s.

“I don’t know what I thought. I just thought you were so fascinating that I couldn’t stand being shot down. So I figured if I went with a more subtle attempt and made it out like I wanted to just be your friend that I’d get to keep you around a bit longer.” Eric shrugged.

“I’m crazy about you, Eric,” Dele says, simple and blunt and the most honest thing he’s spoken this entire month. “The minute I saw you I thought you were the most… obscenely gorgeous man I’d ever seen in my entire life. And then the more time I spent with you the more I hated the idea of it all falling apart. And your friends… _John_. I love them so much. I…”

Dele pauses.

“I love you so much.” Eric finishes his sentence for him, uttering the words Dele had been so afraid of articulating for a while now.

“Yeah…” Dele murmurs. “That.”

“So when did you figure it out?” Eric asks.

Dele pauses as he thinks over the last few weeks, revisiting every single emotion he had been feeling ever since he first saw Eric. “After the snowball fight. You know when we went upstairs to change and warm up?” Eric nods. “Right then. And then waking up next to you the day after really slapped it in my face.”

“That was a fun day, wasn’t it?” Eric smiles.

“So…” Dele continues. “What about you?”

“Bold of you to assume I wasn’t already in love with you the minute I laid eyes on you.”

Dele groans, picking a mini marshmallow from the top of his drink to throw at Eric. “You’re so annoying."

Eric carefully places their mugs on the coffee table as he reaches over to flick Dele’s nose, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You still love me though.”

Dele’s eyes roll. “I’m not going to say it again.” He shrugs, fingertips gently brushing over Eric’s scruff. They’re very close again, Dele’s knees pulled to his chest as Eric sits right in front of him. Dele can see the lines in Eric’s eyes and the different colours that blend to make the window of his soul so vibrant and emotive. It is details like these, Dele thinks, that make Eric so endearing.

“Why not?”

Dele pauses. “I don’t want to waste the words,” he says. “Or rush them, either. You’re not even my boyfriend, Diet. Once is enough for now.”

“I’m not your boyfriend?”

“Did I miss the memo where we stopped faking and you actually asked me out?” Dele teases. He gently bumps their noses together, tangling his fingertips in Eric’s hair to readjust his parting.

“Babe…”

“Dele!”

Dele turns around, head snapping to the doorway. He accidentally pulls a knot in Eric’s hair, giggling quietly as Eric whines and shoves his face into the blanket. Robin and the rest of the family stand at the door, wrapped in scarves and woolly coats where Dele can just about see their smiles under all the layers. He jumps from the lounge and scuttles into the foyer, letting himself be enveloped in a group hug by all of them. They’re all freezing and damp but their love means more than staying dry in that moment. If this simple hug could make up for all the pain and angst he had caused the last few days it was worth the momentary chill.

“I’ve never been so happy to see someone in my life.” Robin says, pinching Dele’s cheeks as they all release and let out a collective sigh of gratitude.

“I know, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, be really difficult and make things sad and uncomfortable.” Dele says.

He is greeted by a chorus of shushes, heads shaking and eyes rolling as the Dier family begin to shed their layers and warm up after their adventures in the freezing cold. “You have nothing to apologise for, Dele. You didn’t make things uncomfortable, it was the other one who won’t be invited to my Christmas parties as long as she refuses to apologise for what she put you through.” Louise says, peppering Dele’s cheek with kisses as she saunters into the kitchen to inevitably make warm drinks for everybody.

“Mum is right,” Robin says. “You were just being you, and she came in here and messed that all up.”

“We love you, Del,” Eleanor speaks next, jumping gleefully onto Dele’s back to force a piggyback ride from him. “Now. We have an unfinished game of Monopoly in the lounge to complete. I’m three spaces away from claiming Mayfair and beating all of you.”

Dele smiles, jokingly letting go of Elle for a moment to teasingly pretend to drop her. She squeaks before clinging onto Dele stronger, and just like that everything feels normal again. As Dele catches Eric eye upon walking in the lounge, taking in the look of pure elation that paints his lips and springs into his eyes, Dele knows he’s home.

❅

“No,” Dele says. He spins a fork around his plate, scooping up some of the remaining food staining the ceramic plate. The two of them, he and Eric, had called it an early night and had ordered Chinese food to eat upstairs. Dele needed some time to settle back into the buzzing life of the Dier household following his little excursion to the hotel by himself. So being up here, under the blankets and pulled close to Eric’s side, felt like the perfect place to be. “You’re completely wrong, you know that?”

“How am I?” Eric protests, wiping some sauce on Dele’s cheek. “If we were in this film I would definitely be David and you would be Natalie. You know I’d be the Prime Minister, don’t even pretend.”

“My god, you are so blind,” Dele chuckles. “Why are you acting like we wouldn’t be the couple who met while being standby actors doing the sex scene? I mean, come _on_ , babe. They’re literally faking having sex and acting a relationship before getting together. How is that not us?”

Eric pauses. “Do I at least get to be Martin Freeman?”

Dele chuckles. “Sure.”

Eric pulls him closer, tugs Dele right into his side and dots gentle kisses over the curve of his neck and over the pink of Dele’s cheeks. It feels so normal despite the fact they’ve been doing _this_ for almost a month now. But before, Dele thinks, there was always the invisible boundary stopping them from fully committing to the moment. Some sheer fence or a transparent layer that would sit between them and stop them from melting properly into each other. But here, now, there was nothing. Just him and Eric. Eric and him.

“This feels different, doesn’t it?” Eric asks. “It’s not just me being funny… it feels nicer tonight?”

“Are you a mind reader or something?” Dele chuckles. He moves himself just that little bit closer to Eric, shuffling around so he’s sat on Eric’s lap with their food resting between them. He can’t see the screen right now, the words just bubbling in the background, but Dele doesn’t think he or Eric were paying that much attention anyway. “I was just thinking that. I feel… closer to you, somehow. It’s weird.”

Eric kisses him, back of his hand brushing over Dele’s cheek. “So a good different?”

“A very good different.”

Dele smiles. “So what’s going to happen after Christmas then?”

“Huh?”

“You know,” Dele continues between mouthfuls of food. “After we’re done faking and go back home. You go back to Banter Central, I go back to Selfridges. Do I still get to be your friend?”

Eric bumps their noses together. “Why wouldn’t you still be my friend?”

“You really aren’t going to ask me out, are you?” Dele whines. “I’ve had you wrapped around my little finger since the beginning of December but I still can’t get you to ask me out.”

Eric rolls his eyes. “Okay first, I’ll get to asking you out eventually. Give me time. You literally just walked back into my house after running away for what felt like weeks. And second, you have not had me wrapped around your little finger.”

“Oh, come _on_. Yes I have!” Dele smiles. “Whenever I needed anything you’d be right there. If I wanted a lift home from work instead of getting the bus you’d drive all the way there to pick me up. If I wanted Indian when everyone else was ordering pizza you’d go and pick it up while the other stuff got delivered. I’m pretty sure my wardrobe is made up of more of your jumpers than mine. If that’s not wrapped around me little finger than I don’t know what-”

Eric tackles him onto the bed, arms pinned down on the covers and food now pushed to the side. Their roles have been reversed now, Eric hanging over Dele while Dele lies looking up at him. “You’re such a git, you know that?”

“You like it, though.” Dele grins.

“Incorrect,” Eric says, causing Dele to frown. “I love it.”

Dele groans, scrunching his eyes shut to avoid looking at Eric. “You’re annoying.”

Eric kisses him. Dele thinks his heart swells twice the size everytime Eric kisses him, his life filling with more joy and happiness and meaning whenever Eric is this close to him. He feels lucky, _so_ lucky to have Eric in his world and brightening up his days. Lucky to hold Eric and know the curves of his face and the lines that etch into his palm. The fact that Eric is his own little map to learn and know and love makes him feel like he’s discovered where he belongs.

“I adore you.” Dele says.

“I really want you.” Eric replies.

Dele opens his eyes, tilting his head to the side as he sits up slightly and observes Eric. “What? That’s a bit vague, isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

Dele blinks. “Yes?”

“I _want_ you.”

“Eric. What-” Dele pauses. “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah,” Eric says. “So… can I have you?”

❅

Alex is smirking as Dele walks into the kitchen the morning after. He’s wrapped in one of Eric’s jumpers, as always, reaching with grateful hands as Louise hands him a cup of tea and a plate of Christmas tree shaped pieces of toast.

“Why are you so happy this morning?” Dele asks, eyes tracing Alex’s expression as he sits beside him.

“Surely I should be asking you that question?” Alex smiles. Dele can almost see the halo hovering above his head, the façade of an angel woven into the innocence of his tone.

“What? You’re being- _oh_. That.” Dele says. He’s blushing again, heat blossoming over his cheeks to the point Dele thinks he could be used as a human heater.

“Yeah,” Robin interrupts. She’s grinning over at him, too, sliver of teeth visible between the small partings of her lips. “That. No surprise, really. You had left him alone for a few days. I’m pretty sure he was bursting at the seams, literally.”

“Utter filth, Robin,” Dele scolds. “Everything you say is utter filth. Your mother would be disgusted.”

“I am, Dele. Don’t worry.” Louise sighs, gently ruffling Robin’s hair as she passes.

“Mum is what?” Eric decides to enter then. He’s glowing, face alight with joy and content as he shuffles in and takes a plate from Louise. He smiles at Dele, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he sits beside him. Dele doesn’t know whether they’re still faking or whether this is all real now, both for Eric and for the family, but Dele likes it all the same. It’s real to him now, at least.

“Disappointed in your sister for the vulgar words that leave her mouth.” Dele says.

Robins scoffs. “The stuff I say isn’t half as bad as the stuff you two-”

“Shut _up_.” Dele and Eric speak simultaneously.

The whole table descend into laughter after that, simmering back into their usual state of conversation and festive joy. Dele lets Eric kiss him a few times as they greet each other properly for the first time that morning, Dele using the pad of his thumb to brush crumbs from the scruff covering his chin. Dele can see Robin watching them out the corner of his eye, this time with a look of happiness painting her face rather than a sinister ambition to cause joyful problems.

As Eric pulls him into a sweet embrace Dele peeks over his shoulder, shooting a wink at Robin who smiles back at him. Dele thinks this is much better than waking up in a hotel room by himself, wondering whether he could ever return to civilisation without dealing with the worst embarrassment he ever experienced.

“Best part of my month has been seeing you next to me as I woke up this morning.” Eric whispers to him.

“Really? Think the best part of mine was realising how fit your friends are.” Dele jokes.

Eric groans as he gently pinches Dele’s side, breathing him in as he holds tightly onto his waist. “I would be annoying but we all know you’d pick me over them any day of the week.”

“Well,” Dele smiles. “You know me so well, love.”

“I know.”

❅

**john stonehenge: so… what happened?**

_Own Contact: what do you think!!!!_

**john stonehenge: omg… no way.**

**kyle runner: Wait what happened??**

_Own Contact: :P_

**john stonehenge: he must really love u if you run away for three days and manage to bed him on the night you come back!!**

**kyle runner: bed him?!**

**small tripps I’M NOT SMALL: You lot are so immature!! What Eric and Dele do is between them. Glad you’re enjoying your Christmas D x**

**kyle runner: Wait**

**kyle runner: you ran away????**

**john stonehenge: do you not read ur texts walks?? I told you this the other day!!**

**My Diet: What’s happening here then?**

_Own Contact: omg nothing eric_

**john stonehenge: hey mr loverboy heard you finally broke your dry streak last night ;)**

**My Diet: dele.**

**My Diet: dele!!! Why did you tell them??? I said don’t tell john because he’ll tell everyone else!!!**

_Own Contact: Sorry can’t text right now busy playing Trivial Pursuit with the family x_

❅

Dele holds tightly onto Eric’s hands as they walk through the high street, dodging the bustling crowds and heavy traffic all gathering around different market stalls that erupt with Christmas and festive goods. They’re on a ‘date’, Dele supposes. The two of them really wanted to go ice skating so Eric suggested they venture into town to find the rink and do some last, _last_ minute shopping before the big day. Drinking festive hot chocolates and holding hands while walking along cobbled streets is something Dele would call a date, but neither of them had vocalised that sentiment. But if the way Eric keeps gently kissing his temple and touching his waist to guide him through the thickets of people were any way of telling how he felt about this adventure, Dele was pretty sure he thought it was a date, too.

The decorations beam above them, glinting and flickering orange-toned lights onto the pale faces of everyone hobbling about. The smell of fern lingers in the air as bristles of Christmas trees scratch on their coats, plastic ornaments tumbling to the ground and slipping everywhere like footballs as they skirt over the thin layer of ice beneath them. Dele feels so young again, revelling in the bright lights and the different Christmas displays fanning out across the length of the high street. Each shop plays a different Christmas song, a harmonic mash-up of every nostalgic piece of music forming in Dele’s ears as they keep walking towards the ice rink at the bottom. Dele takes in the wooden toys and figurines on one of the market stalls, described to have been imported from Germany where they are perfect traditional gifts for any member of the family. There are confectionery vendors everywhere, sugary doughnuts and marshmallows clustering the air with sweet scents that make Dele want to eat his weight in these foods he would often shy away from.

And then he looks up at Eric. Underneath his cap Dele can see little tufts of his hair, which is _finally_ growing out again, gently flickering about with the coming and going of a gentle wintery breeze. His eyes sparkle with the flashes of festive string lights reflecting in them, perfectly contouring his face with shadows and highlights over his now glowing skin. His lips are tugged into a perfect smile, one that hasn’t left his face since he saw Dele the other day, and Dele really just wants to kiss him at every opportunity. Dele holds onto Eric’s hand with both of his, keeping an intensely tight grip as they waddle like a group of penguins to the end of the street, the chill intensifying as the two of them finally reach the ice rink.

“I just think you should know,” Dele says. “I haven’t skated in years, so I highly doubt I’ll be any good at this.”

“Just hold onto me and you’ll be fine,” Eric smiles. “Our family used to go on skiing holidays-”

“Of _course_ you did.” Dele interrupts.

Eric flicks his nose, jokingly rolling his eyes as he pays for the two of them to enter. “-holidays every years and there were always ice rinks around as well. I’m very well acquainted with the art of skating.”

“But you chose football over skating or skiing?” Dele asks, thanking him with a kiss to the cheek as he takes the skates and sits down to put them on. The straps are tight and painful around his ankles as he pulls them on, wincing a little as the thick plastic cuts into his skin.

Eric shrugs, offering Dele a hand to help him stand up and find his balance again. “I wasn’t very passionate about either of them. Skating is difficult, and I’m only good at going round in circles. I could never do any of the jumps. Robin was really good at it, and I’m pretty sure she almost took up figure skating at a professional level.”

“What stopped her?”

“One of her friends snapped her ankle,” Eric says. “There was no persuading her to get back onto the ice after that. But that’s not going to happen to you. You’re not jumping or anything. We’re literally going in circles. I could literally see the colour drain from your face then.” He chuckles, gently brushing Dele’s cheek in an attempt to wipe the warmth back into his skin.

“Thank God,” Dele says. He holds tighter onto Eric as they shuffle towards the ice, Dele letting Eric step on first before guiding himself onto the slippery surface. “Please don’t let me fall over. Last time I fell on the ice I was running home to get ready for your stupid work party and slipped because I was freaking out.”

“I won’t let you fall,” Eric promises, sealing his declaration with a kiss to Dele’s lips. “And you were panicking? Why? It was just a silly little get together.”

“Well, you know. I was sort of freaking out a little because it was around that point I was figuring out that I kind of maybe had a crush on you and I didn’t know how I was going to get through the night without drunkenly confessing my love to you,” Dele shrugs. He stumbles a little as he takes his first few steps, feeling incredibly self-conscious about how fluent Eric’s glides are beside him. “So I was overthinking everything and then I slipped because I wasn’t paying attention. Damp knees and ripped jeans were my companion all the way home.”

“You did enjoy the night, though, right?” Eric asks.

Dele nods. “Of course, yeah. I really did. Once I got there everything was calm. You just… you have no idea how many times I stressed over such minute things this month. Fake dating you is incredibly stressful.”

“But real dating me isn’t?”

“Who said we were real dating?” Dele smiles. “I don’t recall being asked out on a date.”

Eric groans. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m just playing by the rules.” Dele shrugs. He risks leaning up to kiss Eric’s cheek but regrets it immediately as he stumbles ever so slightly. He almost trips properly to the ground, only prevented from doing so by Eric grabbing under his arms and pulling him back up right. He guides them over to the side, firmly planting Dele’s hand on the rail as he looks him up and down.

“You okay?” Eric asks.

Dele giggles, happiness dancing in his eyes as he looks at Eric “I’m fine. Perfect, even. Told you I was clumsy,” he says. “You didn’t let me fall, though.”

“I don’t break promises.” Eric shrugs.

Dele ponders that for a moment. “Can you promise me something else, then?”

“Depends,” Eric says. “What do you want me to promise?”

“That I’m never going to lose you,” Dele says. His gloved fingers fiddle with the bottom of Eric’s scarf, playing about with the edge and looping some of the material around his hand. “That when we get back to the real world, outside of this weird scripted fantasy, we can start fresh. And do _this_ ,” he gestures between the two of them. “Properly.”

Eric smiles, an escaped chuckle accompanying a disbelieving shake of his head. “I’d give you the whole world if I could, Dele.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Of course I can promise you that,” Eric answers. He daintily tilts Dele’s chin up, pressing a chaste yet loving kiss to his lips. “And as sweet as this all is, I’m absolutely freezing. So can we go round in circles for another ten minutes then go get some over-priced hot chocolates from a market stall?”

Dele smiles, readjusting his skates on the ice as Eric laces their fingers together again. “Sounds perfect.”

❅

“One present each only tonight,” Louise says. Her camera has already flashed a multitude of times as the family gather in the lounge late into the night of Christmas Eve. They’re all wearing vaguely matching pyjamas, apparently a Dier family tradition on this particular day, with fresh drinks steaming up the room. There are stockings along the fireplace, all accented with the initial of the person to whom it belongs, and during the day little wrapped boxes of delight had been slipped in each one. Every time Dele peeked in his own one – something he really hadn’t been expecting – his heart fluttered at the sight of each new box. Those gifts, alongside the ones piling underneath the exquisite tree in the corner, really did confuse Dele. He didn’t think he’d have any sort of status in this house, nor that many gifts to open, but his name popped up on plenty of tags outlining the perimeter of the tree and Dele didn’t think he’d ever been so excited to wake up on Christmas morning. “And only little ones, please. I don’t want any big surprises being spoiled today.”

“Since he wasn’t here on the evening of the party,” Robin says, leaning over to hand Dele a very familiar looking box. “I want him to open the one from Zoe and me.”

“Thanks, Rob.” Dele smiles.

They dish out the rest of the presents, Eric taking one from Josh while Alex hangs onto one Dele bought mere hours before. Louise sits on the sofa, setting up a camera to record everyone opening their little parcels of delight, and counts down before they all begin tearing at the wrapping paper.

Dele pulls out a little D-shaped charm tucked beneath layers of blue tissue paper, the perfect size that it would blend in on whatever he hung it off but also so that people would be able to recognise it and ask what it was about. He turns the charm over in his hand, smiling at a little firework detail etched into the back.

“It’s for that chain you sometimes wear,” Robin says. Dele hadn’t noticed her watching him with burning intensity in her eyes, desperate for him to like it. “I notice you sometimes keep it off. It has a few symbols on it, right? I figured you could add that. It can either mean Dele or Dier, depending on who is asking. And the firework on the back… is kind of self-explanatory.”

“I love it so much, Robin,” Dele says, voice soft as he scuttles around to embrace both her and Zoe. “And you, Zoe. I really do. It’s perfect.”

“God, Josh,” Eric’s laughter pulls Dele back to where he was sat on the floor. He’s holding a chunky book in his hands, smirk directed directly at his brother. “Are you trying to say I’m a shit coach? Football for Beginners?”

Josh shrugs his shoulders, a mischievous smile lingering on his lips. “Just thought you could use an extra hand.”

“Dele,” Alex is quiet next to him, only a gentle drumming of fingertips on his knee to alert Dele he wanted to speak to him. He’s holding the gift in his hands – a little wooden globe from one of the market stalls him and Eric passed earlier – and he looks completely lost for words. “I love this so much.”

Dele smiles. “I saw it and thought of you immediately. Just because of your travelling, you know. I figured you could either take it with you or leave it here for when you come back and check off all the countries you visit.”

“Where did Eric manage to find a gem like you?” Alex smiles, looping an arm around Dele’s shoulders to hug him. “I don’t think anyone has put so much sentiment into a gift for me in the longest time.”

“Well, you’ve been nothing but kind to me since I got here. It’s the least I can do in return. You gave me warmth and friendship so I’m giving you… a wooden globe.” Dele laughs.

Alex squeezes him once more, uttering a final thanks before releasing Dele so he can return to his rightful spot.

Right next to Eric, leaning into his side and practically melting into him.

“So,” Eric says. His fingers had found the charm from Robin and are twisting it around in his palm, eyes glued to the firework detail. “What does the D stand for right now?”

“Are you really asking me that question?” Dele asks.

Eric smiles. “I just want to hear you say it.”

“Dier, of course.” Dele answers, easing more into Eric’s side as he kisses his cheek and wraps Dele up like a blanket on his lap. Days before Dele would’ve hated doing this, being so in-your-face about their ‘relationship’. But this wasn’t false anymore, not really, and with that weight off Dele’s soul he felt so much freer to do what he actually wanted.

“I sometimes wish we’d met like the lie we made up,” Eric suddenly says, voice quiet and timid to the point even Dele had to strain to hear him. “You know… at a bonfire night celebration.”

“Why?”

Eric shrugs. “Because now everyone thinks we do. We’re going to have to go with that story for life. We can’t actually tell anyone how we met because it’ll contradict everything we’ve established with all the important people.”

Dele turns in Eric’s lap so they’re facing each other, properly looking into each other’s eyes. They enter their own little world, a bubble containing just the two of them, and the rest of the family disappear into thin air.

“You shouldn’t think like that,” Dele murmurs. “Besides… a lot of people lie about where they met their significant other. One of my friends told everyone she met her boyfriend in the supermarket when in reality they hooked up after searching for a friends with benefits situation on Tinder. It’s normal. And, anyway, it’s like our own little joke now, isn’t it? If we ever start thinking we’re mature adults we can throwback to the time where we literally faked being together to remind us we’re children at heart.”

Eric hums. “Significant other.”

“What?”

“You just called me your significant other.” Eric says.

“My god, Eric,” Dele laughs. “I roll of a nice speech about having a secret with you and that’s all you pick up?”

Eric smiles, pressing a kiss to the tip of Dele’s nose. “I love you.”

“I guess you’re alright, too.”

❅

Dele wakes to fingers brushing through his hair and festive humming to his side. As he creaks his eyes open he sees Eric holding his phone in front of him, an array of voices filtering through the speakers as a group of people all try to speak at once.

“Dele!” One voice says, noticing the way Dele shuffles and sits up a little. He tried to not move too much, not wanting Eric to extract his fingers and leave Dele feeling bare. Upon closer inspection Dele recognises the outline of one John Stones, decked out in a festive jumper and a Santa hat, smiling back at him through the screen.

“Oh my, God! John!” Dele smiles. He sits up further, snuggling perfectly into Eric’s side to fit into the frame and join in with the group FaceTime. Kyle and Kieran sit behind John, all equally Christmassy in their clothing and headwear. “What’s happening? It’s six in the morning.”

“We always wake up this early on Christmas so we can give gifts and have fun before going off during the day. Kyle and Kieran usually head to their families and I mostly hang with John for the day. We weren’t going to break tradition now.” Eric says. His lips fall to Dele’s cheek, peppering over a few kisses to his skin.

“Oh, well,” Dele says. “Merry Christmas, you guys. I miss you very much, even though it’s only been a week.”

“We miss you, too.” Kyle says.

“Hope you like our gifts.” John smiles.

“What gifts?”

“I brought them along so we could open them all here,” Eric explains. “They’re all downstairs. Along with the gifts for the family, as well.”

Dele smiles. “I’m so excited. Are all the ones I got you lot at the flat?”

“Affirmative.” John grins, giving a mock salute.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing you again,” Dele smiles. The comment is directed mainly at John, and the entire group know it really, but there are a bundle of smile gleaming back at him through the screen. “Even when you do wake me up at stupid times in the morning just to wish each other a good Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Del.” John says.

“Right,” Eric steps up to speak. “We should be going. Mum likes everyone downstairs early to start the day off. I’ll speak to you lot later and we’ll see you even sooner.”

“Bye, lads,” Dele says, waving gleefully at the camera as Eric hangs up the call. “Do we really have to be downstairs this early?”

Eric shakes his head. “No, not yet,” he says. “Just figured we could, you know, spend some time together before the rush of the morning.”

“Is that your attempt at trying to be subtle? Instead of saying you want to sleep with me, you want to ‘spend some time’ with me?” Dele chuckles, adding air quotations around what Eric said.

“Better than going oi, Dele. Do you want a quick sha-”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” Dele laughs. He brushes his thumbs over Eric’s cheeks, wiping the sleep from his skin and smoothing out the creases under his eyes. “When does your mum want us downstairs?”

Eric glances at the clock. “About half-seven, probably?”

Dele pauses for a second, tilting his head to the side as he pretends to think the offer over in his head. “Guess we have enough time,” he smiles. Eric is already lining kisses down Dele’s neck as he fixes the blanket, fingers fiddling with the hem of Dele’s shirt and gently flicking over his skin. “Oh, by the way.”

Eric groans as he pauses, looking up at Dele. “What?”

“Merry Christmas, Eric.” He says.

Eric smiles, bumping their noses together. “Merry Christmas, Del.”

❅

Their little fingers are looped together as the two of them walk downstairs at exactly half-seven, being the last of the bunch to enter the bustling lounge. They are all still in their pyjamas, apparently it has been a tradition to keep them on until after present opening and breakfast, tired smiles and little waves greeting each other as they all find their place in the lounge. Dele and Eric sit where they belong, on the floor with their backs to the fireplace, some part of their body always touching as they idly chat with others around them. Dele accepts a kiss on the cheek from Louise, clinging onto Robin as they melt into a love-filled hug. He’s going to miss this, Dele thinks, as he pokes Alex in the side and bumps their fists together. He’s going to miss feeling like a family, having parental figures to look up to and guide him through the day. As much as he’s been overwhelmed by the food and the family and the company, he doesn’t want to go back to microwavable pasties and takeout every other day.

“Merry Christmas, Al.” Dele smiles.

“Merry Christmas, Del.”

Elle busies herself at the foot of the tree, sorting out the presents into haphazard piles while Eric pulls each stocking off the wall and hands them out to each relevant person in the family. As he hands Dele’s his he leans down, cementing the exchange with a kiss. Dele blushes, he doesn’t know _why_ or what about this particular exchange made him red in the face, but his cheeks bloom an elegant red colour. Alex teases him for it, pinching the skin and giggling as Dele shies away from the attention.

“Hate you.” Dele mutters.

“You wish.” Alex smiles, settling back into his designated seat as everyone is finally ready to start opening the gifts.

Dele’s stocking, and everyone else’s for that matter, consists of little fillers – such as sweets and socks and other cliché objects – alongside some smaller, more sentimental ones to sum up their Christmas. Louise had taken it upon herself to get some of the photos she’d taken during the period printed and composed into little photo books. Dele peeked at Alex’s and saw ones of him and Eleanor playing in the snow, alongside a couple of him and Dele playing an intense game of snap on the coffee table. Dele’s own had photos of him and Eric in pretty much every room of the house, curled up on the sofa while watching Elf or in the kitchen baking some brownies for the family. One of his favourites is of him and Eric on the second or third day here as they wrapped some presents. There are bits of tape hanging off Dele’s lip and he’s incredibly focused on perfecting the folds of the paper. The best part is Eric, staring at Dele with a look of pure joy and adoration. Dele sort of wants to tattoo the photo on his heart so he can keep it with him forever.

“Thank you so much, Lou,” Dele smiles, blowing a kiss in her direction. He peeks over at Eric’s book, gently running his finger up and down his arm as they both gaze at the photos. “Aren’t you glad you get to keep me? Would’ve been really sad to throw all these photos out.”

“I know,” Eric murmurs. “I love them all so much. Literally going to take this everywhere with me.”

“Right,” Elle interrupts, arms full of piles of different presents. They pass the different bundles around the circle, everyone ending up with a little tower of different shaped boxes in front of them. “Now the real fun can begin.”

The room fills with the sound of paper tearing and gentle ‘ooh’ing as everyone examines the gifts they get. Louise smiles as she opens a giftset from Dele, alongside some new cookbooks she had been talking about recently, and even Dele fills with a few nerves as she pulls Eric’s gift towards her.

The one gift that essentially caused this entire situation. Louise would never know she was the invisible force that pulled the two of them together, forcing their stars to align and lives to collide at such a high speed. Their simple conversation over Louise and what she would want for Christmas had tugged on the strings controlling Dele and Eric and sent them on this wild journey that had directed them to this one position. She would never know. Would never be told the news that she is the one person who helped bring so much light and joy into her sons life. Eric is clearly thinking the same thing as he loops an arm around Dele’s shoulders, pressing a strong kiss to his temple.

They both watch a little nervously as he pulls off the wrapping paper, lips pursing with intrigue as she lifts the box and examines it with a fine eye. “Eric, my love,” she says. “This is so gorgeous. You’ve never put so much effort into a gift before.”

“Well, you deserved it this time.” Eric smiles.

“Funny,” Robin says. “How Del works in a perfume shop and you get mum an expensive one for Christmas. Did you get him a cheeky discount?”

Dele chuckles. “No, no. He asked for recommendations but did it all himself.”

“Either way, I love it. Thank you, Eric. And you, Dele. You’re both wonderful.” Louise smiles.

Eric gently drums his fingers over Eric’s thigh, lulling his attention entirely back to him. “I want you to open mine.”

“Someone’s eager.” Dele smiles, sitting still as Eric drags one of the gift bags towards him. There’s clearly an order to whatever is in the bag as Eric carefully sifts through to find what he wants Dele to unwrap.

The first present is a little leather washbag, complete with an embossed D on the front, which Eric explains is for keeping his toiletries in whenever Dele stays over at the house. Even though a lot of Dele’s belongings already sit on the sink and hang in the baskets in the bathroom, Eric insists he should have a designated bag for whenever he wants to come over. Next is a football scarf with the name of Eric’s team printed on the front since, as Eric says, Dele will be coming to every single game in the new year. Then a football-shaped keyring for Dele’s keys as a little jokey present. The biggest one, and Dele’s personal favourite, is one of Eric’s jumpers. It’s a thick grey one, the first one Dele wore when he stayed over at Banter Central the first time. Dele had noticed that the jumper mysteriously vanished during December and, holding it now, Dele had never been so glad to see a jumper in his entire life.

“I love these so much,” Dele smiles. He holds the jumper close to his chest, taking in the lingering smell of _Eric_. He’d force Eric to wear it a few times in the future just to make sure it never stopped smelling of him, but currently there was the perfect inkling of Eric woven into the fibres. “Thank you.”

“Not too much? I was kind of worried I went too over the top considering you’ve known me twenty-four days.” Eric chuckles.

“No, not at all,” Dele presses a kiss to Eric’s lips. “They’re perfect. If you’d gone and bought me, like, a first-class round trip stay in New York I would’ve been concerned. These are just… perfect. Personal, little, meaningful. Open mine. I’m a bit nervous, not gonna lie. I haven’t bought presents for a boyfriend in a very long time.”

Eric grins as he pulls the bag towards him. There aren’t as many wrapped boxes, but Dele knows they’re a little more expensive so their cost and effort will balance out eventually. The first one is simple, just a book he’d seen Eric perusing when they were shopping one afternoon. The second is something Dele picked up at the market the other day, a little hanging wooden heart for Eric to dangle from his rear-view mirror. There had been an air freshener which ran out a while ago, and Dele thought this was the perfect replacement.

“That’s the cologne I wear,” Dele explains, noting the look of confusion as Eric unwraps the final present. “I know you have your own special scent or whatever, but would it really be Christmas if I didn’t get you something from work? But yeah, it’s the one I’ve worn for years now. Figured if you ever go a few days without seeing me you can just spritz a bit on and everything will be good in the world.”

“Del… this stuff is really expensive.”

“Eric,” Dele matches Eric’s serious tone. “I get a staff discount, you loser. I applied it when you bought your mums perfume. Did you not check the receipt?”

“What? Why did you do that?” Eric asks. He’s already peeling off the plastic wrapping, spraying a little into the lid to smell. “God, this is you. Love having my own little bottle of Dele to carry around.”

“I felt bad convincing you to buy the most expensive perfume we had. Figured if I applied the discount it would clear my karma a little.” Dele explains.

Eric kisses him. “I love it.”

“I love you.” Dele says.

Eric pauses. “What?” He asks.

“I love you, Eric.” Dele repeats.

“Even though I haven’t asked you out yet?”

Dele laughs. “Even more so because of that.”

❅

Dele changes into the jumper after breakfast. Much to Dele’s delight the portions were considerably small, only a little pile of pancakes for everyone to have while they perused their gifts one more time and took in the extent of what they got. Dele spends time smiling at the shot glass set John buys him, engraved with different compliments he’d drunkenly dished at John during their time together. He made a point of filling one of the glasses with water, taking a photo of him downing it to send to John who inevitably thought Dele was drinking vodka shots at eight in the morning.

He kisses Eric a lot during the day. Whenever they pause to have a simple conversation he makes sure they’re always underneath bundles of mistletoe, wanting to make the most of the festive greenery before he doesn’t have an excuse to unashamedly kiss Eric whenever he wants. Eric never questions the affection, though, always rests his hand on Dele’s back and tugs him just that bit closer every time.

The family pulls crackers at odd points while Louise and Jeremy cook the big lunch together, all tipsily giggling at the awful jokes and taking photos of each other decked out in the paper hats that they balance atop of their hair. Louise continues to take photos, smiling with love and relief in her eyes as she sees everyone come together for what they all wanted: a perfect Christmas.

“So, when are you going to come back after Christmas?” Eleanor asks. They’ve just pulled another cracker, composing themselves from their fit of giggles long enough to actually continue an intellectual conversation.

“Whenever Eric wants to.” Dele shrugs.

“He doesn’t come often,” Elle says. “Only for special occasions. I know he works weekends and all that… but I’d like to see him more. I’d like to see all my siblings more. Andrew lives in Spain so I never see him, Alex is travelling so I never see him. Josh is at uni. Robin is the closest to I have and she doesn’t live here anymore. It’s very lonely in this big house when none of your siblings are around. Please make Eric come back more.”

“I’ll try, Elle,” Dele frowns. He hugs Eleanor, pulling her close and tight in an attempt to transfer as much love as possible to her. “You could always come see us, though. I’m sure he’d put you up in his flat for a few days.”

“I’m not allowed to stay at Banter Central.” Elle shrugs.

Dele shivers at the name of the apartment. Even here, miles away from the damned place, he can’t escape the dreaded nickname. “Why not?” He chuckles.

“I accidentally broke John’s ankle once.”

“What?” Dele screeches. He slaps a hand over his lips the minute he speaks, shying away from the heads that turn in his direction. “How on Earth do you accidentally break his ankle? He’s a giant!”

“I _know_ ,” Elle whines. “Listen. He’s fit. We’re both in agreement here. He’s very fit. And I was distracted by that. So he walked past me on the landing carrying some laundry to clean downstairs and I was pressed to the wall to let him past, completely unaware of what was happening because he looked so pretty. And apparently he was carrying some towels that were dragging on the floor, and I was stood on the end of the towel. So as he steps down the stairs, I’m stepping on the towel and the _falls_ down. Like, really hard down the stairs. I freak out, he’s yelling at the bottom of the stairs. And now I’m not allowed to stay with Eric.”

“Eleanor, my word,” Dele manages to utter through burst of laughter. “You are incredible. I love you so much.”

“You love who so much?” Eric arrives with some drinks, paper crown lopsided on his head as he hands one glass to Dele.

“Your darling sister who I just found out almost killed your best friend.” Dele says, quietly thanking Eric for the drink.

“Oh, yeah. The laundry incident?”

“Ugh,” Eleanor groans. “I’ve changed my mind. I never want to see you again.” She says, cheeks a bright red colour as she sulks off into the kitchen.

“What’s that about then?” Eric asks.

Dele kisses Eric. No reason for it, he just looks very kissable at that moment. “She was saying how lonely it is with no siblings around. Asked if I could make you come more often. Apparently you very rarely turn up.”

“Yeah, well. Adulting is adulating.” Eric shrugs.

“Hey,” Dele scolds. “Don’t lie. You have so much free time to come up here. You know I’m going to force you to come here at least once a month, right?”

“You really like my family, huh?” Eric asks.

“Yes, I do. A lot. I think they’re all great. Plus your childhood home is kind of amazing, in case you haven’t noticed. That bed? Incredible.” Dele smiles.

Eric clinks their glasses together, silently cheers-ing to something.

“The bed or the person in the bed?” Eric grins.

Dele’s eyes roll, fingers gently flicking Eric’s nose. “Shut up,” he chuckles. “I think lunch is almost ready. Should we go sit?”

Eric drapes an arm around Dele’s shoulders, as always, guiding him into the kitchen where the table was already set. The food was already piling up, Jeremy bringing different plates of vegetables and meats as Louise pulled them from the burning oven. The placemats had their names embossed on them in a gorgeous golden thread, cutlery perfectly polished and shining under the soft lights bouncing on the metal. More crackers lay across the special Christmas plates, napkins folded into elegant shapes that Dele remembered watching Josh fold earlier in the week. Dele and Eric are seated next to each other, of course, with Alex to his left and Robin right in front of him. It feels nice, finishing the celebrations surrounded by the people he’d grown closest to during the week.

They cross arms around the table, hanging onto the ends of all the crackers as they collectively tug and pop them all. Little toys fly everywhere and more awful puns drop onto their plates, the pieces of paper quickly being pulled up to avoid anyone cheating and getting a glance at the answers. They go around the circle, reading out the questions and descending into laughter as they pile food on their plates. Glasses are filled to the top with wine and cider and all the drinks Dele didn’t know he wanted a mouthful of. They cheers in the middle, calling out thanks to Louise and Jeremy for making such an elegant lunch and expressing love at everyone around the table. Underneath Eric squeezes Dele’s thigh, giving him a small smile that he always saves for just Dele. There’s a light in his eyes that he never shows anyone else, a little vulnerability in the way he raises his eyebrows and waits for Dele to reciprocate the affection. Dele kisses his cheek, whispering a little _‘I’m very grateful for you’_ in his ear as they settle into their chairs and start devouring their food.

There is silence in the house for the first time since Dele arrived as everyone busies themselves with the food in front of them. Hands grab handles to scoop extras before their plate is even empty, wine bottles draining as sip after sip is taken between smiles tossed across the table. The snow is still falling, consistent flakes tapping on the window and watching the Dier family and Dele dissolve into a puddle of familial joy.

“Where are you heading after Christmas, Alex?” Louise breaks the silence with the question directed at her son. There is a hint of sadness in her voice at the prospect of all her birds fleeing the nest in such a short space of time, but still a flicker of happiness knowing her children are all doing what they want to do in life.

“I’m heading to Spain with Josh for a few weeks, I think. We were talking about it a while ago and figured that would be a good way to bring in the New Year. Then possibly Italy for a while. I’m going to head to the States eventually, just need to find a way over there.” Alex chuckles.

Dele frowns. He almost forgot that Alex didn’t live here, and that he wouldn’t always be one call away if Dele ever wanted to play a digital game of poker with him. There would be time zones in the way, WiFi restrictions, and for a moment he felt a little sad about the prospect of going back home after the days had come to a close.

“As long as you come back for birthdays, I don’t mind where in the world you are,” Louise smiles. “And you two. Eric, Dele. Any fun plans for the new year?”

“Uhm.” They both mumble. As much as they were exchanging words of affection and kept talking about going back and never losing each other they hadn’t actually discussed what was going to happen. He knew they’d stick together in some way, shape or form, but the extent to which they defined their relationship was still blurry.

“I’ve got the team to focus on, and I think Del is just really busy with work.” Eric says. There is uncertainty in his voice and the words are clearly a lie.

“You should go away together,” Robin suggests, lips stained red from the endless glasses of wine she keeps drinking. “Like, not for long. But just somewhere nice. Zoe and I love this little B&B in France. You’d love it there.”

“I used pretty much all of my holiday getting the days off to come down here,” Dele nervously chuckles. “Highly doubt my manager would be very appreciative of me asking to take days off.”

“No plans to move in together?” Louise asks.

Dele glances at Eric. Despite them having scripted an entire fake relationship out of nothing and exploiting their improvisation skills during the months, in this moment neither of them could conjure up some lie about why they wouldn’t want to move in together. Perhaps it’s because everything they say now has material value. None of this is fake anymore, and everything they say is in some way suggestive of what they want in their future. _Their_ future.

“Possibly,” Dele answers. Eric’s grip on his thigh tightens as Dele speaks. “My lease runs out pretty soon and I’m pretty sure all my flatmates are going abroad. So I guess we’ll see what works best for us when the time comes.”

“Yeah,” Eric agrees. “Either we find a place or he moves in with me and the lads.”

“Five guys under one roof?” Jeremy asks. “Isn’t that quite the handful?”

Dele thinks back to all the days he spent at Banter Central, cuddled up on the sofa beside Eric and looking at the rest of the lads all lounging in their spaces. How it always felt so homely and like there was plenty of space for him despite being the new, odd one out. Coming down every morning to an extensive breakfast and warm cups of tea being shoved into his hands every half an hour. “No, not really,” Dele smiles. “It’s a good arrangement.”

Their answers satisfy the family as they all turn back to their plates, determined to finish their meals before the Queen’s address later in the day. Dele leaves a little on his plate afterwards, having piled too much initially for him to finish. He undoes the top button on his jeans, fingers readjusting his paper hat which had skewed among the combination of laughing and comedic speaking he had been doing during the meal.

“Well,” Eric says to him once everyone has gone to the lounge to ogle at the television. “Christmas is essentially over now.”

“We did it,” Dele says, holding up his mostly empty glass to cheers with Eric. “Made it through December without anyone finding out we were faking it.”

Eric pulls Dele’s chair right beside him, fingers curling through the hair at the nape of Dele’s neck. “What a month. I found you, thought I’d lost you and somehow still have you after everything that was thrown at us.”

“I know,” Dele smiles, leaning in to sweetly kiss Eric. “If you told Dele at the beginning of the year he’d be finishing December at a guy’s house having broken his yearlong no-sex streak spending the evening with the nicest people in the world he would not have believed you.”

“Are you excited for the new year?”

Dele shrugs. “I’m excited for anything as long as you’re in it.”

❅

They’re on the balcony, wind whipping around their cheeks and snow falling in front of them. The moon is bright and the stars are brighter but nothing radiates as much light as Eric’s smile beside Dele. They’d cleared some snow off one of the seats and have curled up on it, old blanket pulled over their legs as they reflect on the day’s events while hidden in the darkness of the deep December evening.

The rest of the day had been lush. The family had huddled around the coffee table for an extensive afternoon of board games and phone calls with cousins and aunts and uncles who couldn’t be there for the main events. Disney films played idly in the background and Christmas presents scattered over the carpet as the room filled to the brim with laughter, bells of joy showering every single surface and seeping into the eyes of every single person. Louise brought out dessert at one point, cutting slices of the cake for everyone to devour while they gazed up at the Christmas episode of Doctor Who. Even a late dinner, which Dele would’ve called supper, had been leftovers from the gorgeous meal. By the end of the evening the lights had turned off, the TV had faded to standby, their paper hats had all torn and eyes grown weary. Dele hadn’t even noticed the time ticking by as they chatted about everything they possibly could. There was never a second of quiet, always some fragment of a conversation twitching in the corner of the lounge or echoing from the walls of the kitchen as someone new offered to make a drink.

“I love you,” Dele says, turning a little to face Eric directly. “Just thinking about today, and this whole week. I can’t believe the world had gifted me you.”

“You’re in a very sentimental mood this evening, aren’t you?” Eric smiles.

“No, shush. Okay, just listen to me while I drunkenly pour my heart out to you,” Dele says, holding Eric’s cheeks between his hands. “My life was awful before you. Like… not good at all. I went through such a high phase, you know. I was travelling, meeting people and was living the life I dreamed. And then I crashed. Came back and realised I had no place to be. I was just… drifting. Moving in with university students and picking up a job in retail has been a real low for me. I really had absolutely nobody. No family, no _good_ friends. And then you walk in and turn my world upside down. You haven’t made me better, because I was already great and had it all inside me, you just… showed me a path that let me be the person I want to be. That I’m meant to be. I’m meant to be friends with John and Kyle and Tripps. I’m meant to be besties with your mum while I text her perfume recommendations every day. And I see it so clearly now, all because you walked into my fucking shop so early on a Saturday morning. Isn’t that just crazy?”

Eric kisses him in response, hands cradling the back of his head. Dele fills with a warmth he can’t describe. He feels incandescent, like he is glowing from an overwhelming burst of love that can’t be contained to his body anymore. Dele feels whole; like all the fractured pieces of his heart that he left behind with insignificant boys he kissed in countries all over the world were finally coming back together. That this weird journey of his life has led to this singular moment and everything is finally coming together.

Like when the world was made. An unprecedented amount of circumstances all coming into contact at the perfectly coincidental time. This was Dele’s world being made right in front of him. Though he may not be able to feel his fingers or his face from the snow covering his skin he can feel the happiness lighting in his heart and he knows, he _knows_ , that this is endgame for him.

“I’m so grateful for you, Eric. I really am. And I know I was so mean to you in the bathroom the other day and I’m so sorry if that caused you any pain because the last thing I ever want to do is hurt you. You brighten my days. The highlight of my whole year, my whole life, has been meeting you.” Dele rambles.

All Eric can do is smile. Smile and kiss him between sentences to stop Dele from running out of breath and collapsing. It’s like he’s watching a balloon slowly deflating, a life’s worth of feelings and emotions all filtering out of Dele as he shrinks into a tiny spec of a human. “Babe,” Eric coaxes Dele back to the present. “I love you.”

“Please for the love of all things good in the world,” Dele begs. “Please just ask me out already.”

“Okay, okay,” Eric soothes. His fingers lovingly drag down Dele’s arms, clinging onto his wrists as Dele looks up at him. “Calm down first, please?”

Dele bumps their noses together and suddenly feels a lot more sober. It’s almost as if he needed the alcohol to spill all the words out, needed that little suspension of reality to let loose all the emotions that has burned his heart for too long now. “Okay.”

“Dele,” Eric starts. His fingers are outlining the lines on Dele’s palm, index finger perfectly following the love line that deeply engraves into his skin. “This is me asking you if you want to make things between us official. Like, boyfriend’s official.”

“There are other types of-?” Dele interrupts.

“Shut up and just say yes, you fool.” Eric chuckles.

Dele kisses him: a strong and fierce and emotional kiss that answers any question Eric could ever ask him. “I would love to be your boyfriend, officially and forever.”

“Forever?” Eric repeats.

Dele nods. “And ever.”

❅

Saying goodbye is hard. Alex and Josh go first, heading out late on Boxing Day to get to the airport for their early morning flight. Dele hugs Alex with unbelievable intensity, almost begging him so stay in touch and not go months without coming back to say hi every once in a while. Dele can’t quite believe he’s created such a strong friendship in the span of two weeks, to the point where he has to fight back tears as they get in their taxi to the airport. In fact, Dele thinks he is more emotional at Alex leaving than Jeremy is. But, then again, Jeremy is used to watching his children ride off into the midnight streets. Dele has never had to say goodbye to a dear friend like that before.

After Alex and Josh it’s Eric and Dele who leave. The day after Boxing Day, car packed to the brim full of bags and gifts and leftovers to take him for the other lads. Dele feels like he’s leaving behind half his soul as he hugs all of them, refusing to be the first one to let go as he makes his way around the never ending line of Dier children.

Elle has tears in her eyes, bottom lip jutting out into a heart-breaking frown as he hugs her. Dele’s shirt feels damp as she finally pulls back, and she only lets him go properly once he promises to not lose their Snapchat streak. Louise holds onto him with such might and strength that Dele momentarily can’t breathe. Which is good in his mind, because if he passes out then he’ll get to go to the hospital and will be able to stay at the house for a few days longer. She releases him with a wish of him staying safe and messaging once he gets home, and Dele nods through the pain to confirm that he will.

And then Robin.

“Come here, you.” She smiles, rising onto her tiptoes as she hugs him for what feels like a lifetime. Dele tries to memorise how she smells, taking in the subtle hints of lavender and rose so he could create his own version once he gets back home. She combs her fingers through his hair and Dele breathes all of her in, begging for every conversation they shared and smile they exchanged to be engrained in his mind forever.

“I’m going to miss you a lot.” Dele says.

“You’ll see me soon, anyway. You think I’m going to let myself go more than a month without seeing you? I’ll be FaceTiming you every two days.” Robin jokes.

Dele smiles, though the tears in his eyes don’t quite match the expression. “Please do. I can’t imagine my days without you in them.”

“I’ll see you _soon_ , Del.” Robin promises, reluctantly letting him go as Eric beckons him to the door. It feels like the sad end of a Christmas movie, staring back at these people who have become part of his daily routine, part of his _family_. They all share the same look of devastation, so many unspoken words hanging on their lips and potential conversations glittering in their eyes.

Next time, Dele reminds himself. They’ll have so much time to have these conversations, so many chances to weave their lives together to the point they can’t remember what it was life years before when they were strangers.

Eric takes Dele’s hand as they walk out the house into the bitter cold, leaving the family with one last smile. He helps Dele into the car, pressing a firm kiss to his lips before crossing to the driver’s side. They sit for a moment, silent as they come to terms with the fact that all the adrenaline has faded and they are now back to their mundane reality.

“You ready?” Eric asks.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Dele smiles.

Eric places his hand on Dele’s thigh, and Dele layers his on top. As the car starts and they head back towards the motorway Dele knows this is only the end of the first part of his and Eric’s adventures together. Because now, as Dele looks at his _boyfriend_ Eric, he knows that they’re driving away from the end of one experience right towards the start of another. And this one will be real right from the very beginning.

Dele counts himself lucky that somehow through this twisted narrative of false words and conversations layered with mendacity, he and Eric found their way to each other. Through their muddled minds and their emotionally conflicted hearts they erased the blurriness to see each other clearly. To see that all they ever wanted or needed was right in front of them the entire time.

“What are you thinking about?” Eric asks.

Dele smiles as he turns to look at Eric, his _boyfriend_. “You.” Dele says. Eric blushes a little, for the first time ever in front of Dele, and… yeah. He’s very lucky. He’s finally found his place in this world, and that place is being right beside Eric every day for the rest of his life.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's that! it's been a ride. hope you've all enjoyed this & that you all have a wonderful christmas (if you celebrate) and a glorious new year.  
> (apologies if there are typos - I haven't had time to edit this with a fine-tooth comb yet. will do so in the new year x)
> 
> tumblr: johnstnes


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